OF  YELLOW 


/    / 

MATT 
ROSE 


UNIT.  Or  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELE& 


A  Streak  of  Yellow 


B  y 
MATT    ROSE 


NEW  YORK    AND  WASHINGTON 

THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
1904 


COPYRIGHT,  1904 

BY 
HENRY   M.   ROSE 


Respectfully  Dedicated 

to  the 

Preachers'   Sons 

and 

Deacons'    Daughters 

of 

America 


2132316 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

I.    Sam  Boggs's  Rebellion 9 

II.     Arabella's  Soliloquy 19 

III.  The  Sermon  Hatchery 25 

IV.  An  Exultant  Pastor 32 

V.    Dinner  in  the  Parsonage 37 

VI.    A  Spinster's  Lodgings 40 

VII.    Bill  Taylor's  False  Report 47 

VIII.    The  Home  Missionary  at  Work 56 

IX.    When  Dan  Rice  Came  to  Town 64 

X.     Roger  Williams's  Birthday ." 77 

XI.    The  Visit  to  Red  Jacket's  Roost 84 

XII.    A  Robber  at  Work 95 

XIII.  The  Tell-tale  Coin 101 

XIV.  Misleading  Signs 104 

XV.     Preaching  to  a  Preacher in 

XVI.     Dinah's  Baptism 117 

XVII.    The  Heathen  Get  a  Benefit 123 

XVIII.    The  Robber  Caught 129 

XIX.    A  Full  Confession 137 

XX.    The  Young  Men's  Club 142 

XXI.    Arrival  of  a  Lion 151 

XXII.     Punishment  and  Retaliation 159 

XXIII.  Christmas  Holidays 170 

XXIV.  The  Free  Methodist  Watch-Meeting 176 

XXV.     A  Split  in  the  Church..    183 

XXVI.    The  Church  Fire 192 

XXVII.    Sammy  Leaves  Home 202 

XXVIII.    Unsatisfactory  Tidings 218 

XXIX.    Following  a  Yellow  Vein 229 

XXX.    On  Board  the  "  Scotia  " 241 

XXXI.    A  Sympathetic  Captain 255 

XXXII.     Planting  a  Reminder 261 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

In  justice  to  my  parents  now  living — a  Baptist 
clergyman  and  his  helpmate — whose  beautiful  and 
consistent  Christian  lives  have  ever  been  an  inspira- 
tion and  sweet  benediction  to  all  their  children,  I 
desire  to  state  this  book  is  in  no  sense  an  auto- 
biography. If  my  parents  erred  at  all  in  the  train- 
ing and  disciplining  of  their  offspring  they  erred  in 
the  direction  of  leniency,  tenderness  and  forbear- 
ance— in  the  sparing  of  the  rod  rather  than  in  its 
application.  They  need  no  written  declaration  to 
assure  them  of  the  sincere,  profound  and  unvarying 
love  and  respect  of  their  unworthy  but  well-meaning 
son,  and  to  convince  them  he  has  had  no  desire  to 
write  lightly  or  critically  of  the  faith  in  which  they 
have  lived  these  many  vears. 

H.  M.  R. 

January  20,  1904 


A  STREAK  OF  YELLOW 


CHAPTER  I 

SAM  BOGGS' S  REBELLION 

Anger  is  like  champagne  to  a  person  who  is  nat'rally 
talk'tive.  It  keys  up  the  mental  machin'ry  and  loosens  the 
tongue. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

"I'll  give  you  my  name  if  you  want  it  so  bad,  an' 
I  ain't  afraid  to  do  it  nuther.  I'm  that  'wicked 
Boggs  boy' — Samuel  Eliphalet  Boggs.  My  father's 
the  R-e-v-e-r-e-n-d  Samuel  Eliphalet  Boggs,  senior. 
You  ought  to  know  who  I  be  if  you  live  in  this  town. 
Decent  folks  call  me  'Sammy/  some  of  the  fellers 
call  me  'Sam,'  others — toughs  mostly — call  me 
'Boggsy,'  my  Sunday-school  teacher,  my  ma  an'  my 
pa  call  me  'S-a-m-u-e-l,'  but  that  big  fat  lobster  what 
just  passed  always  calls  me  'Elder.'  That's  why 
I'm  mad.  That's  why  I  swore.  Say,  how'd  you 
like  to  be  called  'Elder'  just  'cause  your  dad's  a 
preacher?  I  live  in  that  yellowish  house  right  up 
the  street  yonder.  You  can't  miss  it.  I  was  born 
there  an'  it  ain't  changed  its  color  since,  either.  I'm 
eight  coming  February;  was  born  on  a  February 
twenty-ninth,  an'  on  a  Friday.  Ain't  that  luck  for 


10  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

you  ?  I've  had  just  one  birthday,  three  teeth  pulled, 
one  thumb-nail  pounded  off,  two  sisters  an'  six 
brothers  older'n  I  be,  an'  besides  a  heap  of  trouble; 
had  plenty  of  measles,  chicken-pox,  blisters,  warts, 
mumps,  lickin's,  scarlatine,  an'  some  things — in  my 
hair  an'  on  my  hands  an'  arms  mostly — that  ma  says 
it  isn't  nice  to  talk  about.  Say,  have  you  ever  had 
any  of  them  things  ? 

"Yes,  you  HEARD  ME  SWEAR!  No  nasty 
little  sparrow  had  to  tell  you  that.  Of  course  I 
sweared.  You'd  swear,  anybody'd  swear,  a  saint 
would  swear,  my  dad  would  swear  if  he  had  to  stand 
what  I  <io.  I  know  it's  bad  to  do  it.  I've  heard 
that  as  many's  TWO  TIMES  before.  I  swore  at 
that  big,  slob-sided,  elephant-legged  carpenter  goin' 
yonder.  He's  a  pretty  carpenter,  he  is.  I  hate  him. 
Most  boys  hate  him.  Most  everybody  hates  him. 
He  always  calls  me  'Elder.'  I'm  tired  of  it.  It 
makes  me  mad.  That's  why  he  does  it.  He  thinks 
it's  smart  to  pick  on  a  preacher's  kid.  Some  other 
folks  think  it's  smart  to  do  it.  I  won't  stand  for  it 
no  longer.  I'll  stand  for  all  the  other  names,  but  I'll 
not  stand  for  that  one.  I'm  not  an  'Elder'  an'  I'll 
never  be  an  'Elder,'  if  my  father  is  'the  seventh  son 
of  a  seventh  preacher  in  the  family  tree,'  and  most 
every  one  keeps  hintin'  it's  comin'  up  to  me.  I'll 
never  be  'IT,'  that's  what.  I'm  goin'  to  break  the 
line.  My  gran'ma  on  my  mother's  side,  what's  dead, 
says  she  don't  blame  me,  'cause  preachers  never  have 
anythin'  but  children,  an'  are  too  busy  to  give  them 
any  bringin'  up.  I  allers  liked  gran'ma  'cause  she 
had  some  pity  for  a  preacher's  kid.  She  was  just 


SAM    BOGGS S   REBELLION  II 

old  enough  to  'predate  me  when  she  went  away  for 
keeps.  I've  got  a  name  for  that  big  lubber  now 
every  time  he  calls  me  'Elder/  I  know  plenty  other 
things  about  him,  too.  This  mornin'  I  was  mindin' 
my  own  business.  He  never  minds  his  own  busi- 
ness. I  wasn't  sayin'  nothin'  to  him.  I  wasn't 
even  lookin'  at  him.  He  sang  out  to  me,  'Hello, 
Elder!'  He  always  does  it.  I  sang  back  to  him, 
'Hello,  beer-belly!'  He  chased  me  an'  called  me 
other  names,  an'  I  twitted  him  about  stealin'  my  pa's 
shirt  and  never  bringin'  the  wood  as  he  promised  to 
do,  and  you  saw  all  the  rest  what  I  did.  I  can  out- 
run him  any  day.  He's  too  lazy  to  run.  I  was 
glad  when  his  tool-tray  fell  an'  spilt  the  tools  in  the 
street.  That  made  him  madder  and  that's  why  he 
threw  the  stone  what  hit  me  on  the  shin,  an'  that's 
why  I  sweared.  So  there,  now,  you  have  it  all  and 
HAVE  IT  STRAIGHT.  I  don't  care  if  you  do 
'report'  me  to  my  father,  as  you  say  you  ought  to  do. 
Everybody  else  blabs  on  me.  You're  not  the  only 
tell-tale  out  of  school.  Tell  my  father  if  you  want 
to.  Half  this  town  don't  do  anythin'  else.  They've 
got  nothin'  else  to  do.  I  s'pose  you've  nothin'  else 
to  do.  I  guess  you'd  swear  at  a  lubber  like  that 
who'd  hit  you  on  the  shin  an'  called  you  'Elder.' 
I'd  like  to  try  it  onc't.  But  run  along  and  tell  my 
father,  just  as  everybody  else  does.  He'll  whip  me 
an'  I'll  hate  you,  whoever  you  be,  an'  that's  all  that'll 
come  of  it.  I  pity  every  son-of-a-gun  of  a  preacher's 
son,  but  I'll  be  dod-gasted  if  I'll  ever  make  a  tell- 
tale of  myself.  If  I  ever  do  preach  I'll  not  have  a 
seventh  son.  If  I  do  have  I'll  never  whip  him  for  a 


12  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

little  thing  like  that.  I'll  swear  again  at  old  Bill 
Taylor  every  time  he  sings  out  to  me,  'Hello,  Elder !' 
if  I'm  licked  seventy-times-seven-times  for  it.  I've 
a  peach'rina  for  him  now — that  'biled  shirt'  an'  'cord 
wood'  business.  I'll  give  it  to  him  every  time,  too. 
He  can't  insult  me  that  way. 

"Did  you  ever  have  a  seventh  kid  ?  Did  you  lick 
him  for  everythin'  he  did?  Did  you  lick  him  every 
time  any  one  told  on  him?  But  it's  all  right.  I'm 
in  for  it.  Go  an'  tell  my  father.  You'll  find  him 
in  the  study  at  the  rear  of  the  house.  Go  right 
'round.  Go  right  in.  You  don't  have  to  knock 
when  you  go  knockin'.  Dad's  glad  to  see  any  one 
who  comes  to  tell  on  me.  He's  glad  of  a  chance  to 
exercise  his  'Christian  duty.'  He  keeps  gads  on  top 
of  the  black  desk  on  purpose  to  exercise  on  me.  It's 
all  the  exercise  he  gets.  It's  the  only  duty  around 
home  that  seems  to  worry  him.  He'll  know  what 
you  come  for.  He'll  take  down  a  gad  and  begin 
lookin'  for  me  before  you've  fairly  begun  turnin'  in 
your  'report.'  Reports  don't  come  in  too  fast  for 
him.  I  never  eat  before  goin'  into  the  study  to  see 
if  anythin's  been  entered  agin  me.  I  never  go  to 
bed  without  doin'  it.  Nearly  every  day  it's  the 
same  old  thing.  Dad  calls  me  into  the  study,  tells 
me  about  some  report  that's  on  file  agin  me,  repeats 
a  stale  old  motto  about  'sparin'  a  rod's  spoilin'  a 
child,'  an'  some  other  nonsense  about  how  seriously 
it  hurts  a  Christian  father  to  do  it — an'  then  it's 
done.  That's  the  way  dad  has  preserved  all  his 
children.  I  never  get  a  chance  to  say  nothin'.  I'm 
licked  almost  afore  I  know  it.  I  always  feel  madder 


SAM    BOGGS  S    REBELLION  13 

after  it's  done;  always  hate  my  father  an'  all  other 
preachers  with  a  mutt'rin',  unsatisfied  hatred;  go  to 
the  wash  basin  cursin'  inwardly,  an'  to  my  eatin's, 
or  to  bed,  too  angry  to  live  an'  too  unlucky  to  die. 
I'm  used  to  it.  I'm  tough  now.  Everybody  in  this 
town  helps  me  to  it.  They  know  I'm  toughened  to 
it.  That's  why  they  call  me  'tough.'  It  ought  to 
make  my  dad  tough  to  do  it.  He  says  it  hurts  him 
to  do  it.  I  don't  see  that  he  squirms  much.  He 
looks  mad  an'  red  in  the  face  when  he  does  it  an' 
keeps  doin'  it  a  little  harder  each  time.  I  wouldn't 
keep  doin'  a  thing  that  hurts  as  much  as  dad  says 
that  hurts  Mm.  But  I  s'pose  he  has  to  have  exer- 
cise. If  he  didn't  have  he  might  get  the  brain  fag. 
If  a  Christian  who  is  a  minister  can't  get  exercise  no 
other  way,  I  s'pose  it's  best.  I  wish  them  heathens 
was  nearer  home.  Pa  might  exercise  on  them.  Of 
course  it's  your  'Christian  duty'  to  tell  on  me.  Of 
course  it's  dad's  'Christian  duty5  to  thrash  me.  It's 
the  'Christian  duty'  of  everybody  in  this  town  to  tell 
on  a  preacher's  kid.  I  never  seen  a  town  with  so 
many  'Christians'  in  it.  I  hope  other  towns  isn't 
so.  Run  along  an'  do  your  'DUTY'  afore  you  for- 
git  it.  If  you  didn't  tell  mebbe  your  soul  would  be 
damned,  an'  it  would  be  a  mighty  shame  if  any 
damned  small  soul  in  this  town  should  be  lost.  Run 
along,  now;  don't  lose  your  soul,  you  TELL- 
TALE-TIT!" 

This  broken,  rebellious  and  sarcastic  speech  came 
from  a  rugged,  freckle-faced  boy,  whose  tearful  eyes 
flashed  fire  and  whose  breast  heaved  rapidly  as  the 
words  rolled,  like  shot  from  a  Catling  gun,  from 


14  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

between  rows  of  uneven  teeth.  He  stood  full  half 
the  time  upon  one  leg  and  rubbed  the  shin  of  the 
other  as  he  spoke.  The  words  came  none  the  less 
defiantly  because  they  were  broken  by  sobs  and  were 
frequently  semi-suppressed  by  the  wiping  of  red- 
dened eyes  and  a  dripping  nose.  They  were 
addressed  to  Miss  Arabella  •  Araminta  Somers,  the 
spinster  daughter  of  one  of  the  rural  deacons  of  the 
Batesville  Baptist  Church,  and  a  man  noted  as  a 
most  exemplary  citizen  of  an  agricultural  county  in 
the  Empire  State.  Arabella  had  been  away  in 
Boston  completing  her  education  and  perfecting 
herself  for  kindergarten  work. 

It  seems  a  strange  dispensation  of  Providence  that 
those  persons  who  are  generally  perfected  for  the 
training  and  education  of  children  are  such  as  are 
destined,  from  predilection,  personal  attractions,  and 
the  want  of  a  proposal,  never  to  have  children  of 
their  own. 

Arabella  was  clearly  of  this  class,  and  although 
she  had  never  held  a  child  in  her  arms,  never  slept 
with  a  child,  never  bathed  a  child,  or  even  filled  and 
warmed  a  nursing  bottle,  she  had  decided  that  her 
special  forte,  her  preordained  destiny,  was  along  this 
very  line.  She  had  but  recently  returned  home  with 
two  diplomas,  many  new  notions,  the  frequent  drop- 
ping of  a  final  "r"  from  her  vocabulary,  and  a  few 
Bostonian  airs  that  promised  to  give  occasion  for 
gossipy  comment  in  the  staid  and  peaceful  hamlet  of 
her  youth.  That  very  morning  she  had  come  to  the 
village  with  the  purpose  of  organizing  a  kinder- 
garten, and  bore  with  her  a  letter  from  her  father 


SAM    BOGGS  S    REBELLION  15 

addressed  to  the  Reverend  Doctor  Boggs.  She  hoped 
to  secure  the  class-room  of  Doctor  Boggs's  church 
for  use  on  week  days  as  the  first  school-room  of  the 
first  kindergarten  in  Batesville.  She  was  bearing 
her  credentials,  her  plan,  and  her  letter  to  the  par- 
sonage when  she  witnessed  the  encounter  between 
Sammy  Boggs  and  the  carpenter,  but  had  been  too 
long  absent  from  the  Batesville  valley  to  be  readily 
recognized  by  the  youthful  battery  her  admonitory 
words  had  set  in  action. 

It  is  quite  probable  she  inwardly  hoped  the  youth- 
ful population  of  Batesville  had  not  so  degenerated 
since  the  days  when  she  taught  the  boys'  class  in  the 
Sabbath-school  and  acquired  the  conviction  that  all 
the  children  in  the  town  of  her  consecration  were 
fair  and  altogether  lovely.  If  they  had  degenerated 
and  if  Sammy  Boggs,  son  of  her  pastor,  was  a  speci- 
men of  this  degeneration,  she  hoped  her  patrons 
would  send  their  male  offspring  to  her  while  yet  they 
were  young  that  the  seed  of  her  planting  might  take 
root  early  and  bring  forth  brighter  promises  of  a 
rich  harvest.  She  at  least  realized  she  had  mission- 
ary, as  well  as  educational,  work  to  perform,  and 
where  she  had  the  least  expected  to  find  it. 

When  Arabella  left  Sammy  he  was  leaning 
against  a  rickety  board  in  a  weather-stained  fence. 
The  board  was  loosened  at  one  end  and  played, 
flippety-flop  as  the  unhappy  boy  sobbed  and  throbbed 
with  emotion  that  now  found  chance  for  escape, 
since  the  volley  of  words  was  out  of  the  way.  He 
went  through  the  dramatic  effort  of  a  cry  and  the 
audible  agonies  increased  in  exact  ratio  as  the 


1 6  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

distance  between  Arabella  and  the  pastor's  study, 
decreased. 

A  torn  and  soiled  handkerchief  was  wound 
around  the  bruised  ankle  and  was  kept  in  place  by 
a  knotted  rubber  band,  but  not  before  the  shin  had 
been  scraped  against  a  boulder  until  it  was  red,  and 
in  the  hope  that  blood  might  come.  This  was  like 
many  another  old-time  expedient  used  by  Sammy  to 
excite  sympathy  from  his  father  when  he  expected 
to  follow  some  'report'  into  the  study.  He  listened 
for  the  calling  of  his  name  from  the  front  gate  and 
calculated  he  could  limp  the  whole  distance  on  one 
foot  by  stopping  occasionally  to  rub  the  place  where 
the  handkerchief  was  tied. 

The  familiar  call  did  not  come.  The  doleful 
music  became  tiresome  to  Sammy;  the  machinery 
was  nearly  run  down  and  his  eyes  refused  to  weep, 
just  as  Benny  Hopkins  approached  in  sympathy. 

''Who's  her  skirtlets?"  asked  Ben,  referring  to 
Sammy's  late  interrogator. 

"I  dunno  an'  I  don't  want  to  know,"  replied 
Sammy. 

"What'd  she  do  to  you  ?"  queried  Ben. 

"She  didn't  do  nothin'  to  me.  She's  gone  to  tell 
on  me,"  said  Sammy. 

"For  what?"  asked  Benny. 

"  'Cause  I  swore  at  old  Bill  Taylor  when  he  called 
me  'Elder,'  an'  chased  me,  and  stoned  me,"  was  the 
brief  summary  of  current  events  that  came  in  reply. 

"I  don't  believe  she'll  tell  on  you,"  said  Ben.  "She 
don't  look  it.  She  ain't  that  kind.  She  kep'  stoppin', 
an'  turnin'  round,  an'  lookin'  back;  looked  mighty 


SAM    BOGGS S    REBELLION  17 

pitiful  an'  longin' — just  as  sister  Emily  does  at  the 
jars  of  stick  candy  when  we  go  to  Hooker's  for 
gas'lene.  Ma  allers  sends  me  an'  Emily  to  Hooker's 
for  gas'lene.  That's  'cause  we're  twins  an'  she  don't 
want  us  ever  sep'rated.  If  the  stuff  should  'splode 
then  we'd  go  together — I  guess  that's  the  reason 
why." 

This  brought  a  smile  and  a  friendly  grunt  from 
Sammy,  just  as  Ben  calculated  it  would. 

"No,  sir;  I'll  bet  my  turkle  agin  your  Jews- 
harp  she  won't  tell,"  said  Ben. 

"Have  you  got  a  mud  turtle?"  asked  Sammy, 
dreadfully  anxious  to  leave  the  scene  of  his  dramatic 
effort. 

"Yes,  I  have,  an'  he's  a  bird,"  said  Ben.  "Old 
Alf  caught  him  down  in  the  calf  pasture.  Ain't  it 
a  wonder  he  humped  hisself  fast  enough  to  do  it? 
I'll  show  him  to  you  if  you'll  stop  your  bawlin'  an' 
come  along  over." 

Sammy  rolled  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the 
home  front  gate,  saw  that  the  coast  was  clear,  low- 
ered the  favored  leg,  wiped  his  perspiring  and  dusty 
face,  and  followed  Ben  across  the  street.  He  was 
just  climbing  over  the  barn-yard  gate  when  he  heard 
his  father's  voice  calling,  "Sam-u-e-1 !  Sam-u-e-1 !" 

"There,  I  told  you  she'd  blab  on  me,"  said  Sam, 
as  he  climbed  slowly  over  the  gate  and  made  terrible 
efforts  to  force  a  cry.  He  loosened  his  hold  upon 
the  top  board  when  he  was  fairly  over,  and  fell  in 
a  heap  in  the  driveway.  This  had  the  desired  effect. 
It  started  the  tears  and  put  lameness  back  in  the 


1 8  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

ankle.  Sammy  got  up  slowly,  wailing  now,  and 
howling  like  a  Digger  Indian  in  the  medicine  dance. 
He  limped  painfully  in  the  direction  of  his  father. 
The  neighbors,  although  the  sound  was  familiar  to 
them,  rushed  to  their  front  doors  and  stuck  their 
heads  through  windows.  They  did  this  out  of 
curiosity  more  than  from  any  sense  of  pity  or  sym- 
pathy. The  cries  also  brought  Sammy's  mother 
and  Arabella  to  the  front  gate. 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  crying  like  that  for  ?" 
asked  his  mother,  as  she  took  him  by  one  arm  and 
drew  the  other  away  from  his  face. 

"Ain't  she  told  father  ?"  sobbed  Sammy. 

"Ain't  who  told  father?  Told  father  what? 
What  do  you  mean?" — all  these  questions  came 
from  the  mother  before  Sammy  had  time  to  catch 
his  breath. 

Arabella  caught  Sammy's  eye  just  then.  She 
placed  a  finger  against  her  closed  lips  and  shook  her 
head.  Sammy  knew  she  had  not  told,  and  that  she 
did  not  wish  him  to  tell. 

"Told-  father-how-I-hit-agin-a-  stone-  just-as-she,- 
that-lady,-went-by,"  stammered  Sammy. 

"Now  wipe  your  eyes  and  run  along  to  the  post- 
office  with  this  letter,"  said  his  father.  "I  want  it 
to  go  in  to-day's  mail,  sure." 

Sam  took  the  letter  and  he  ran.  The  lame  leg  did 
its  work  as  evenly  and  handsomely  as  the  game  leg 
in  that  race  against  time. 

"You  were  right  about  it!"  Sam  shouted  to  Ben 
as  he  passed  the  barn-yard  gate. 


CHAPTER  II 
ARABELLA'S  SOLILOQUY 

Discontent  always  makes  a  bigger  noise  than  contentment. 
It  also  rests  more  uneasily  in  the  human  breast.  Spinsters 
are  never  supposed  to  possess  it,  but  they  are  the  spinsters  of 
fiction  and  not  of  flesh  and  blood.  Spinsters  are  women  first 
and  spinsters  afterwards.  They  don't  wear  halos. — Arabella 
Somers. 

Arabella  Somers  thought  a  whole  heap  that  morn- 
ing, and  some  of  her  thoughts  were  fairly  muttered 
forth  in  words.  The  rebellion  of  Sammy  had 
unwittingly  stirred  up  an  insurrection  in  her  own 
breast.  She  had  ever  resented  the  old  declaration 
that  "preachers'  sons  and  deacons'  daughters  are  the 
worst  children  in  the  world."  If  it  was  so  she 
thought  she  could  easily  account  for  it  now.  It  was 
not  that  they  desired  to  be  so,  but  because  other 
people  made  it  impossible  for  them  to  be  anything 
else.  They  are  set  up  as  models  and  are  then  picked 
on  and  pounced  on,  and  picked  at  and  pulled  at  until 
they  can't  help  falling  down.  She  had  also  ex- 
perienced a  keen  resentment  for  constantly  being 
reminded  she  was  a  deacon's  daughter.  She  had 
posed  now  nearly  thirty-seven  summers  as  a  bright 
and  shining  example  for  all  the  girls  in  the  Bates- 
ville  valley,  and  was  tired  of  it.  She  had  scarcely 


20  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

been  able  to  cross  the  street  or  turn  around  in  church 
without  the  consciousness  that  critical  eyes  were 
upon  her. 

"My  father,  my  mother,  my  grandmothers  and 
my  great  aunts  have  everlastingly  dinged  in  my  ears 
that  I  was  a  model,  a  beacon  light  of  propriety  warn- 
ing other  girls  from  the  rocks  and  shoals  of  friv- 
olity, and  then  I've  been  fashioned  accordingly," 
said  she  half  aloud  as  she  proceeded  on  a  mission 
that  had  been  so  inspiring  a  few  moments  before. 
"I've  always  been  told  that  I  must  do  so-and-so  and 
must  not  do  so-and-so  because  I  was  a  deacon's 
daughter.  I  couldn't  dance,  couldn't  play  cards, 
couldn't  wear  a  bird's  feather,  couldn't  wear  jew- 
elry, couldn't  play  worldly  music — nothing  but 
hymns — couldn't  have  more  than  one  flounce  on  my 
dress,  couldn't  jump  the  rope,  swing  high  or  climb 
an  apple  tree  when  boys  were  around — couldn't  do 
anything  that  other  girls  did — just  because  I  was  a 
deacon's  daughter.  I  could  never  stay  away  from 
church,  rain  or  shine;  could  never  skip  the  Sunday- 
school,  headache  or  no  headache.  I  could  never  go 
with  a  boy  who  wasn't  a  Baptist  in  full  fellowship 
and  good  standing,  and  could  never  go  riding  with 
him  after  dark.  I  could  never  sit  on  the  grass  at  a 
picnic  or  be  kissed  at  a  social  just  because  my  father 
was  a  deacon  in  the  church,  and  better  things  were 
expected  of  a  deacon's  daughter.  That's  why  the 
girls  have  never  cared  to  come  to  my  house.  That's 
why  they've  never  played  in  my  yard.  That's  why 
they've  always  shunned  me.  That's  why  they  all  hate 
me.  If  I've  ever  wanted  to  do  a  single  thing  but  say 


ARABELLA  S    SOLILOQUY  21 

my  prayers,  sing  hymns  and  read  my  Bible,  I've  been 
told  by  some  old  busy-body  that  it  wasn't  becoming 
in  me,  Arabella  Somers,  a  deacon's  daughter,  to  do 
it.  I've  had  to  take  off  many  a  ribbon  because  some 
one  adjudged  me  too  gaudy  for  a  beacon  light  of 
propriety  when  wearing  it.  I've  had  to  take  down 
my  hair  and  do  it  all  over  again  for  the  same  reason. 
If  I  smiled  at  something  comical  in  church,  some  one 
noted  the  fact  and  made  remarks  about  it,  and  called 
me  down  for  it.  Other  children  referred  to  it  as  an 
excuse  for  their  depravity.  Sometimes  I've  hated 
my  father  for  being  a  Baptist  deacon,  although 
otherwise  he  was  a  goodly  man  and  seemed  to  think 
well  of  me.  I  know  I  hate  those  words  'deacon's 
daughter'  with  an  innermost  hatred.  I  hate  them 
as  badly  as  Sammy  Boggs  hates  to  be  called  'Elder/ 
I  can  almost  hear  the  words  ringing  in  my  ears  this 
very  moment,  'Remember,  Arabella,  you  are  a  dea- 
con's daughter !' — just  as  though  I  ever  could  forget 
it.  I've  been  primped  up,  and  perked  up,  and  jerked 
up  as  the  correct  thing  for  everybody  to  pattern  after 
until  I'm  heartily  tired  of  it.  I've  been  spanked  and 
scolded  and  shut  in  dark  closets,  and  punished  in 
many  other  ways  for  doing  things  other  girls  have 
been  permitted  to  do  over  and  over  again.  Sammy 
Boggs  will  never  be  whipped  because  of  any  report 
from  me.  I  can  see  why  he's  bad.  I  wonder  he  is 
not  worse.  I  wonder  that  I've  ever  been  called 
good  or  wanted  to  be  good.  I  wish  my  father  was 
a  horse-trainer,  a  dancing-master,  a  Universalist,  a 
Unitarian — anything  but  a  Baptist  deacon.  I  pity 
poor  Sammy  Boggs.  I  believe  I'd  have  sworn  worse 


22  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

than  he  did  if  I'd  been  in  his  place.  I  know  I'd  have 
felt  like  it  if  that  old  good-for-nothing  had  sung  out 
to  me,  'Hello,  deacon's  daughter!'  No,  I'll  never 
make  report  against  Sammy." 

All  this  and  much  more  passed  through  Arabella's 
mind  as  she  neared  the  parsonage.  She  did  not  take 
Sammy's  advice  to  go  directly  to  the  pastor's  study, 
but  reflected  that,  inasmuch  as  she  was  a  "deacon's 
daughter,"  it  might  be  more  becoming  in  her  to 
approach  Doctor  Boggs  by  way  of  the  front  door, 
where,  possibly,  she  might  first  make  her  mission 
known  to  the  mistress  of  the  household  and  secure 
her  co-operation.  She  followed  this  prompting,  and 
it  was  Mrs.  Boggs  herself  who  answered  her  rap  at 
the  door  and  gave  her  formal  welcome. 

"Miss  Somers !"  were  all  the  words  spoken  by  the 
pastor's  helpmate  as  she  touched  the  finger  tips  of 
her  caller,  surveyed  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  gave 
signs  that  she  might  enter.  The  welcome  seemed 
the  more  formal  and  the  atmosphere  several  degrees 
cooler  as  Arabella  explained  that  she  had  called  par- 
ticularly to  see  Doctor  Boggs,  and  on  business. 
She  was  permitted  to  stand  until  the  helpmate  had 
informed  her  husband  of  the  approaching  visitor, 
and  had  returned  by  way  of  the  kitchen.  Mrs. 
Boggs  carried  a  flat-iron,  and  a  chubby,  tow-headed 
child — that  Arabella  judged  to  be  at  least  three 
years  old — followed  after,  smearing  its  face  with 
bread  and  molasses  and  dragging  what  afterwards 
proved  to  be  its  only  toy — a  string  of  empty  spools. 
This  was  one  bit  of  the  family  Sammy  had  omitted 
from  his  enumeration  of  the  household  that  morn- 


ARABELLA  S    SOLILOQUY  23 

ing,  and  was  the  only  thing  at  all  interesting  to 
Arabella  as  she  awaited  her  audience  with  her  pastor. 

"Step  right  in  this  way;  the  Doctor  will  see  you 
presently,"  said  Mrs.  Boggs,  leading  the  way  into  a 
close  and  stuffy  little  room  at  the  front  of  the  house, 
that  served  as  a  parlor  at  all  seasons  and  as  an  iron- 
ing room  and  a  room  in  which  to  put  baby  to  sleep 
during  the  warm  days  of  summer.  The  windows 
were  closed  and  the  shutters  were  drawn  that  no 
worldly  air  might  find  way  into  it;  but  it  proved  a 
more  convenient  place  in  which  to  do  the  family 
ironing  than  the  overcrowded  kitchen,  even  though 
Mrs.  Boggs  was  obliged  to  pass  through  a  spacious 
dining-room  to  reach  a  hot  iron  every  time  one 
became  chilled  through  contact  with  damp  clothes 
and  the  icy  woman  who  handled  it.  A  few  shirt- 
waists and  other  white  garments  were  removed  from 
one  of  those  stiff-backed,  highly-padded,  walnut- 
framed  and  black  hair-cloth  upholstered  chairs  that 
are  always  found  in  the  parlor  of  a  parsonage,  and 
here  Arabella  was  seated. 

Mrs.  Boggs  kept  at  her  ironing  as  though  her  life 
depended  upon  it.  She  made  no  inquiry  of  Arabella 
as  to  the  nature  of  her  business,  did  not  so  much  as 
ask  after  her  health,  the  health  of  her  parents,  or 
her  spiritual  welfare,  or  theirs.  She  said  nothing 
to  her  of  her  visit  in  Boston  and  made  no  observa- 
tions as  to  the  weather,  her  looks,  or  her  intentions. 
Her  thoughts  were  purely  of  family  cares,  and  the 
clothes  basket  gave  evidence  that  she  had  one  care 
that  promised  to  engage  her  attention  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day,  overtime  included. 


24  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

She  had  chilled  the  third  iron  just  as  Sammy's 
terrible  outcries  rent  the  air  and  alarmed  the  neigh- 
borhood. These  did  not  seem  to  unduly  startle  her. 
She  composedly  removed  her  apron,  rolled  down  her 
sleeves,  placed  baby  in  the  clothes  basket,  threw  in 
his  string  of  spools,  handed  him  a  crust  that  had 
fallen  by  the  wayside,  and  leisurely  sauntered  out 
and  in  the  direction  of  the  gate  and  the  outcries. 
Arabella  followed  her. 

After  delivering  the  letter  to  Sammy,  Doctor 
Boggs  turned  and  extended  a  hand  to  his  caller.  "I 
understand  you  have  business  with  me,  Miss 
Somers,"  he  said.  "Please  walk  right  around  into 
the  study.  I  will  join  you  in  a  moment." 

Arabella  followed  instructions. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    SERMON    HATCHERY 

It  is  as  hard  to  produce  a  cheerful  sermon  from  a  cheerless 
room  as  it  is  to  force  a  smile  over  a  stale  joke.  If  you  don't 
believe  it,  try  it. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  pastor's  study,  although  a  part  of  the  parson- 
age, had  no  direct  communication  with  the  residence 
portion  of  it.  It  was  built  on  at  the  rear,  and  a  long 
side  porch,  a  sort  of  connecting  link,  led  from  its 
single  door  past  entrances  to  the  kitchen  and  sitting- 
room. 

Arabella  approached  and!  entered  in  about  the 
same  frame  of  mind  a  convict  is  supposed  to  possess 
when  he  goes  to  his  doom.  It  seemed  to  her  more 
like  a  chamber  of  horrors  than  a  conservatory  for 
the  birth,  propagation  and  preservation  of  sacred 
religious  thought.  It  was  chilling  and  damp,  and 
musty  and  rusty  to  her,  and  she  hoped  her  incarcera- 
tion would  be  but  for  a  few  moments  at  most. 
Once  seated,  she  looked  instinctively  for  the  whip- 
ping-post and  cat-o' -nine-tails.  She  did  not  dis- 
cover these,  but  had  no  difficulty  in  locating  the 
switches  Sammy  had  talked  about  so  fluently.  There 
were  pieces  of  several  in  the  unused  fireplace,  and 
others  that  projected  over  the  top  of  the  "black 


26  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

desk"  Sammy  had  described.  The  exposed  portions 
of  these  were  frayed  somewhat ;  the  bark  was  worn 
off  in  places  and  the  weaker  ends  were  broken. 
There  could  be  no  question  about  their  having  seen 
service.  Arabella  imagined  the  space  at  the  end  of 
the  work  desk,  between  it  and  the  "black  desk,"  was 
where  little  Sammy  paid  the  penalty  of  "Christian 
duty,"  where  he  was  "preserved"  by  the  non-sparing 
of  the  rod,  and  she  fairly  boiled  with  resentment  in 
the  contemplation.  It  was  a  gloomy  and  forbidding 
place  to  her  that  morning,  as  it  was  forever  after. 

The  room  was  large,  and  was  poorly  lighted  by 
three  narrow  windows — sort  of  chancel  windows, 
with  little  red  and  blue  panes,  diamond-shaped, 
around  their  borders.  Vines  kept  out  nearly  all  the 
light  that  struggled!  to  get  in.  There  was  a  red 
brick  floor,  with  the  brick  laid  flat,  and  a  thick  rug 
made  of  woven  rags  covered  the  greater  portion  of 
it.  The  fireplace  was  spacious  and  took  up  nearly 
one  side  of  the  room.  It  was  also  of  red  brick,  and 
there  was  a  red  brick  chimney  leading  up  through 
the  high  ceiling.  The  walls  were  tinted  a  dull  gray 
and  there  was  a  wide  black  moulding  running  round 
to  hold  the  pictures.  In  the  center  of  the  room  was 
a  large  flat-topped  desk  with  drawers  down  the  sides 
and  an  open  space  between.  It  was  covered  with  all 
conceivable  kinds  of  working  material — papers,  and 
pens,  and  shears  and  things.  There  seemed  no  order 
in  the  mass — no  head  or  tail,  no  beginning  or  ending 
to  anything.  It  was  all  confusion  worse  confounded 
to  Arabella,  and  she  wondered  if  a  Chinese  conjurer 
could  make  anything  out  of  it.  She  noticed  two  or 


THE   SERMON    HATCHERY  27 

three  boxes  of  throat  lozenges  and  many  of  the  little 
brown  tablets  scattered  around  over  things.  Every- 
thing was  dusty.  There  was  a  pair  of  woven  straw 
wristlets,  and  two  sheets  of  sticky  fly-paper  stuck 
full  of  flies.  Some  dead  flies  that  were  unable  to 
get  stuck,  for  want  of  room,  were  lying,  heels  up, 
around  the  mucilage  pot  and  the  inkstand — almost 
everywhere. 

There  was  another  work  desk  in  the  corner,  tall 
and  black,  and  sombre.  It  had  drawers  at  the  bot- 
tom, writing  shelf  in  the  middle  that  turned  over 
and  rested  on  sticks  that  drew  out  at  the  sides,  and 
bookcase  with  glass  doors  above.  It  was  the  top  of 
this  piece  of  furniture,  well  out  of  reach  of  the  small 
boy,  that  held  the  implements  of  correction  Arabella 
had  so  readily  discovered. 

Two  sides  of  the  room  contained  open  book- 
shelves, built  in,  and  these  were  filled  with  volumes 
of  no  uncertain  character.  A  number  of  them  had 
been  borrowed  by  her  father,  from  time  to  time,  for 
his  spiritual  reading  and  uplift,  and  were  quite 
familiar  to  Arabella.  There  were  the  works  of 
Andrew  Fuller,  Robert  Hall,  Doctor  Dwight  and 
Doctor  Edwards;  full  sets  of  Spurgeon's  sermons 
and  Saurin's  sermons;  Cummins's  Scripture  Read- 
ings, Cummins's  Lectures,  Cummins  on  Romanism, 
Cummins's  Minor  Works,  and  Cummins  in  various 
shapes  and  forms  on  most  every  line  of  religious 
thought.  There  were  Baxter's  Saints'  Rest  and 
Booth's  Reign  of  Grace;  Dick's  Theology  and  Pri- 
deaux's  Connection;  Hodge  on  Romans,  Ripley  on 
the  Acts,  Alexander  on  the  Psalms,  Haldane  on 


28  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Faith,  and  Noel  on  Baptism.  There  were  Henry's 
Commentaries,  a  Comprehensive  Commentary,  and 
a  broken  set  of  Gill's  Commentaries ;  Horn's  Intro- 
duction, Memoirs  and  Discourses  of  Thomas  Spen- 
cer, Brown's  Encyclopaedia  of  Religious  Knowledge, 
and  a  whole  shelf  full  of  books  called  The  Religious 
Library.  Watts' s  Hymnal  was  alongside  a  book 
called  Scott's  Bible,  that  was  big  enough  to  have 
been  written  by  Great  Scott  himself.  It  was  so  big 
it  had  burst  at  the  back  and  the  glue  and  stitching 
threads  showed  plainly.  The  Life  and  Epistles  of 
St.  Paul  came  next  to  this,  and  it  bore  evidences  of 
popularity.  Then  there  was  a  volume  marked 
"Progress  of  Baptist  Principles,"  by  a  man  named 
Curtis,  and  beside  it  was  Humphrey's  Letters  to  His 
Son. 

Arabella  wondered  if  "Progressive  Baptist  Prin- 
ciples" required  or  sanctioned  the  whipping-post, 
and  whether  or  not  Humphrey  flogged  his  boy 
before  he  left  home.  As  her  eyes  caught  Fox's 
Book  of  Martyrs  she  thought  her  own  name  and  the 
name  of  Sammy  Boggs  might  well  be  included  in  the 
next  edition.  In  the  same  row  was  Aids  to  Reflec- 
tion, and  she  reflected  she  had  no  use  for  that  book 
that  morning.  She  was  perfectly  able  to  reflect 
without  its  aid.  She  hoped  it  might  aid  her  pastor 
and  that  somewhere  within  it  he  might  find  some- 
thing that  would  cause  him  to  reflect  upon  what 
corporal  punishment  was  doing  in  his  family — 
something  that  would  lead  him  to  the  use  of  more 
humane  methods,  more  love,  more  reason  in  dealing 
with  Sammy. 


THE   SERMON    HATCHERY  2Q 

There  were  numerous  books  well  calculated  to 
make  any  one  a  Baptist  if  he  read  them  and  didn't 
read  anything-  else,  and  Arabella  concluded  she  had 
solved  the  reason  why  the  Baptists  had  become 
selfish  in  the  matter  of  the  Lord's  Supper  after 
merely  reading  their  titles.  One  of  them  was 
marked  "Immersion  and  Communion,"  another 
"What  Is  Close  Communion?"  another  ''Why  I  am 
a  Baptist,"  and  still  another  "Essence  of  the  Baptist 
Faith."  Arabella  didn't  like  these  titles.  They 
seemed  to  antagonize  her.  Up  to  that  morning  she 
had  been  proud  of  her  church  and  was  zealous  for  it. 
She  had  been  proud  of  her  church's  name.  Now 
she  found  herself  fairly  despising  the  word  that 
characterized  her  faith.  Everything  seemed  con- 
tracted, narrow  and  mean  to  her,  and  she  thought 
bigotry  fairly  ran  riot  in  that  library.  The  books 
seemed  to  her  especially  selected  to  make  a  con- 
tracted, narrow  and  mean  man  of  the  pastor  who 
had  brought  her  into  the  full  light  of  the  Gospel, 
and  whose  right  arm  had  buried  her  form  beneath 
the  baptismal  waters.  She  saw  volumes  of  Hume, 
and  Gibbon,  and  Hallam,  of  many  of  the  poets  and 
some  of  the  philosophers  upon  the  shelves,  but  was 
in  no  humor  to  take  note  of  them. 

Upon  the  desk  she  saw  a  much-worn  pamphlet 
entitled  "Washington's  Address  to  the  Baptist  Min- 
isters of  Virginia,"  and  she  knew  Doctor  Boggs  was 
rejoicing  that  very  morning  over  the  fact  that  the 
great  "Father  of  His  Country"  had  once  thus  signally 
noticed  the  clergy  of  his  creed — just  as  he  must  have 
felicitated  himself  time  and  time  again.  She  also 


3°  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

• 

saw  open  upon  the  desk  a  volume  entitled  "The 
Great  Iron  Wheel,"  and  the  peculiar  name  impelled 
her  to  turn  and  scan  its  table  of  contents.  She  saw 
at  once  it  was  a  denunciation  of  the  Methodist 
Church  and  its  methods,  and  she  didn't  like  it.  If 
ever  she  seemed  to  herself  to  be  broad  in  her  relig- 
ious principles,  it  was  that  morning.  If  ever  she 
was  inclined  to  break  away  from  a  faith  that  seemed 
to  her  narrow,  it  was  that  very  hour.  She  was, 
indeed,  upon  the  verge  of  religious  collapse.  In 
that  book  she  saw  revealed  all  the  bigotries  of  the 
church  and  the  processes  through  which  church 
leaders  had  become  narrow.  She  knew  now  why  a 
Baptist  would  not  break  bread  and  drink  wine  with 
a  Methodist.  She  knew  why  expounders  of  the 
Baptist  faith  clung  to  the  idea  they  had  discovered 
something  a  trifle  better  than  all  others  possessed, 
and  were  therefore  a  trifle  more  select.  She  was 
perplexed,  troubled,  liberalized  and  hardened,  all  in 
a  brief  hour.  As  she  expected  to  solicit  the  children 
of  parents  of  all  protestant  creeds  for  her  instruc- 
tion, she  wanted  to  think  well  of  the  Methodists,  so 
she  replaced  "The  Great  Iron  Wheel"  where  she  had 
found  it  and  turned  her  attention  away  from  books. 
Upon  the  walls  not  covered  by  books  and  book- 
shelves hung  pictures  that  were  not  well  calculated 
to  cheer  Arabella's  depressed  spirits.  There  were 
copies  of  the  Crucifixion,  the  Descent  from  the 
Cross,  the  Last  Supper,  and  a  portrait  of  the 
Saviour,  with  the  ugly  crown  of  thorns  piercing  his 
brow  and  the  death  agonies  upon  his  face.  Enough 
of  the  bust  was  exposed  to  show  the  bleeding  side, 


THE    SERMON    HATCHERY  31 

pierced  by  the  cruel  spear,  while  great  tears  were 
falling  from  the  lustrous,  sympathetic,  and  forgiv- 
ing eyes.  Arabella's  eyes  moistened  as  they  caught 
this  picture,  but  it  in  no  way  softened  her  feelings 
toward  the  man  she  had  come  to  interview  and  from 
whom  she  was  to  solicit  a  favor.  She  only  wished 
the  portrait  might  soften  her  pastor  when  he  was 
about  to  scourge  his  son. 

There  was  a  picture  of  Madison  University  and 
grounds,  and  of  John  the  Baptist  and  Jesus  standing 
waist-deep  in  the  Jordan,  and  there  was  a  ring 
around  the  head  of  Jesus  to  show  which  one  he  was. 

The  room  seemed  cold  and  the  air  seemed  old  to 
Arabella.  The  fireplace  gave  forth  a  sooty  odor 
and  the  cedar  boughs  that  decorated  it  were  too  old 
to  overcome  it.  In  one  corner  of  the  room  a  cloth 
curtain  was  half-drawn  at  the  entrance  to  a  deep, 
dark  closet.  Arabella's  curiosity  here  got  the  best 
of  her,  and  she  investigated  it.  Her  eyes  penetrated 
the  recess  far  enough  to  reveal  a  pair  of  black 
wading  boots  and  double  rows  of  long  black  gowns. 
She  guessed  correctly  they  were  the  garments  worn 
by  the  faithful  when  the  waters  of  the  baptismal 
font  were  troubled,  but  as  they  made  her  think  of 
funerals,  she  drew  the  curtain. 

Some  complaint  had  been  made  that  Doctor 
Boggs's  sermons  were  dry  and  lacked  cheerfulness. 
Arabella  thought  she  could  give  the  reason  after  the 
first  visit  to  her  pastor's  study. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN    EXULTANT    PASTOR 

We  should  consider  the  degrees  of  temptation,  as  well  as 
the  degrees  of  crime,  before  passing  judgment.  If  it  was  a  yel- 
low harvest  apple,  ripe  and  juicy,  and  the  first  of  the  season, 
that  the  serpent  offered  Eve,  we  shouldn't  blame  her  so  much 
for  yielding. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

"I'm  sorry  I  kept  you  waiting  so  long,"  said 
Doctor  Boggs  as  he  entered  the  study,  munching  a 
harvest  apple  that  fairly  popped  as  his  teeth  pene- 
trated the  skin.  "I  went  over  to  Brother  Howard's 
to  get  the  church  records,  and  we  got  to  talking  and 
I  almost  forgot  you.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  my 
shirt  sleeves." 

Saying  this  he  laid  two  well-worn  blank  books 
upon  the  desk,  stepped  to  the  dismal  closet,  took 
down  a  short  and  light-weight  coat  and  slipped  it 
on.  Then  he  seated  himself  in  the  swivel  chair, 
drew  on  the  straw  wristlets,  took  up  a  pen,  and 
swung  around  in  the  direction  of  Arabella. 

"I'm  very  busy  these  days,"  said  he,  waving  a 
hand  over  the  desk  as  if  in  excuse  of  its  condition. 
"I  am  preparing  an  anniversary  sermon  and  think  I 
never  worked  so  hard  in  all  my  life.  You  see  it's 
just  twenty-five  years  next  Sabbath  since  I  became 
pastor  of  this  church.  I  came  here  direct  from  the 


AN    EXULTANT    PASTOR  33 

Rochester  Theological  Seminary.  I  went  there 
after  leaving  old  Madison.  This  church  was  pow- 
erful low  when  I  came.  They  were  holding  no 
regular  services  and  the  congregation  was  scattered 
and  neglected.  Some  were  going  over  to  Wheat- 
land,  some  to  Clifton,  some  to  Mumford,  others  to 
Leroy,  and  others  to  Churchville  to  worship.  I 
pitched  right  in  and  got  the  flock  together  again, 
and  I  had  them  well  organized  inside  of  six  months. 
We've  been  growing  and  prospering  ever  since. 
I've  just  been  going  through  my  memoranda  and 
find  I've  added,  on  an  average,  37  persons  every 
year — 719  by  baptism  and  206  by  letter.  I  got  the 
clerk's  books  that  I  might  compare  them  with  my 
own  figures.  When  I  came  here  the  church  prop- 
erty was  run  down  and  mortgaged,  they  had  no 
organ,  had  no  bell,  and  could  hardly  raise  me  six 
hundred  salary.  I've  cleaned  up  the  church  and 
reshingled  it,  lifted  the  mortgage,  paid  for  a  new 
organ,  bought  a  bell,  cushioned  the  pews,  added  the 
class-room,  put  in  a  baptistry,  and  succeeded  in 
doubling  my  salary,  when  you  count  in  the  donations 
and  weddings,  besides  doing  many  other  things. 
Don't  you  think  that  a  good  record  ?  We've  nearly 
outstripped  the  Methodists.  Did  you  ever  hear 
much  about  the  Methodists,  Miss  Somers  ?" 

Arabella  had  no  chance  to  make  reply  to  the 
questions  propounded,  Doctor  Boggs  continued  so 
rapidly. 

"They're  a  queer  lot.  'The  Great  Iron  Wheel' 
tells  all  about  them.  You  ought  to  read  it.  They 
let  down  a  drag-net  and  take  in  everything  and 


34  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

everybody,  you  know.  If  a  man  will  raise  a  hand 
or  groan  they'll  take  him.  Why,  only  last  January 
they  had  revival  meetings  the  same  time  we  had 
ours,  and  they  took  that  good-for-nothing,  shiftless 
old  Bill  Taylor  in  on  probation.  One  of  our  young 
deacons  was  in  at  the  time.  He  went  over  to  watch 
and  keep  count.  They  had  called  on  everybody  to 
rise  who  wanted  salvation,  and  our  deacon  says 
Taylor  got  up  to  throw  a  quid  of  tobacco  in  the 
stove-hearth,  when  the  evangelist  sang  out,  'Thank 
God;  there's  a  sinner  moving!'  One  of  their  ou£- 
riders  rushed  to  Taylor,  then  three  or  four  got 
around  him,  and  they  succeeded  in  landing  him  at 
the  altar.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  doings? 
They  took  him  on  probation  and  he's  a  probationer 
now. 

"Why,  do  you  know  that  lazy  old  coot  has  been 
married  four  times  and  they  say  his  last  wife  would 
have  starved  to  death  last  winter  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  the  Methodists?  A  year  ago  July,  the  third,  I 
think,  he  came  around  here  to  the  study  door,  called 
me  out,  and  said  he  was  'goin'  to  be  spliced  agin'  on 
.  the  Fourth,  and  wanted  me  'to  do  the  job.'  After 
'  I  told  him  I  would  be  at  home  and  would  be  pleased 
to  perform  the  ceremony,  he  hung  around  as  though 
he  had  something  more  to  say  to  me.  I  asked  him 
what  was  on  his  mind,  and  he  said :  'Elder,  I  sup- 
pose you  use  stove-wood.  I  took  some  in  pay  when 
I  worked  on  Josiah  Tibbetts's  barn  last  fall,  good 
beech  and  maple.  Would  you  mind  taking  your  pay 
in  stove- wood  ?'  I  agreed  to  take  the  wood. 


AN    EXULTANT    PASTOR  35 

"The  morning  of  the  Fourth  that  fellow  came 
around  again,  called  me  from  my  breakfast,  and 
asked  if  I  would  be  kind  enough  to  loan  him  a  'biled 
shirt'  for  the  event.  Wife  hunted  up  one  of  my 
best  shirts  and  let  him  take  it,  and  do  you  know  to 
this  very  day  I've  seen  nothing  of  that  shirt  or  that 
cord-wood,  either.  The  Methodists  can  take  all 
that  sort  of  trash  they  want  to.  If  we'd  take  that 
kind  we  could  beat  them  twice  over.  The  Free 
Methodists  are  working  on  him  now.  Mebbe  they'll 
get  him.  They  are  picking  up  all  the  scum  and  riff- 
raff of  the  town.  I  tell  you  the  Baptist  Church  is 
a  substantial  and  well-grounded  organization.  It 
has  made  wonderful  strides  and  has  a  glorious  his- 
tory. I  could  hardly  realize  it  was  so  big  until  I 
looked  up  the  figures.  It's  made  a  great  record. 
General  Washington  once  told  how  our  ministers 
stood  for  God  and  country  in  Virginia  when  we 
were  mere  colonies.  I  have  his  speech  and  I'm 
going  to  quote  from  it  on  the  Sabbath.  I  hope  you 
will  be  in.  I'm  going  to  try  and  outdo  myself." 

Arabella  readily  saw  that  Sammy  Boggs  came 
naturally  by  his  gift  of  speech.  She  had  thus  far 
not  been  able  to  present  her  letter,  state  her  mission, 
or  get  in  a  word. 

Doctor  Boggs  had  never  seemed  to  her  like  a  man 
given  to  brag.  She  had  viewed  him  as  a  modest, 
retiring  man — tall,  angular,  stern,  with  a  smoothly- 
shaven  face  that  now  reminded  her  more  of  a  bust 
of  Dant6  she  had  seen  in  Boston  than  anything 
else.  He  was  certainly  in  an  exultant  mood  that 
morning,  and  his  anniversary  sermon  had  keyed  him 


36  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

up  to  a  talkative  pitch  far  above  the  ordinary.  He 
undoubtedly  thought  he  could  safely  say  these  things 
to  the  most  exemplary  member  of  his  flock,  the 
daughter  of  his  oldest  and  most  loyal  deacon,  and 
had  thus  temporarily  thrown  off  reserve  and  let 
himself  out. 

He  read  to  his  patient  auditor  many  of  the  figures 
of  the  quarter-century's  record,  giving  facts  he  con- 
sidered of  great  importance,  and  reading  those  he 
thought  of  greatest  importance  with  greatest  em- 
phasis. He  read  from  scattered  scraps  of  paper 
scattered  passages  from  the  discourse,  and  for  her 
entertainment  and  approval,  and  might  have  read 
the  sermon  entire  had  not  Mrs.  Boggs  come  upon 
the  porch  to  announce  dinner.  This  gave  the  only 
opening  to  Arabella,  and  she  saw  it  quickly  and 
rushed  for  it.  She  stated  her  mission  and  presented 
the  letter. 


CHAPTER  V 

DINNER    IN    THE    PARSONAGE 

Nervousness  cannot  always  be  traced  to  overwork,  undue 
excitement,  or  a  disordered  stomach.  Whatever  causes  it, 
cigarettes  are  not  an  infallible  cure. — Arabella  Somers. 

Doctor  Boggs  read  the  letter  so  carefully  written 
by  his  senior  deacon,  and  told  Arabella  he  saw  no          » 
reason  why  she  should  not  have  the  class-room. 
The  Home  Missions'   fund  was  low  and  the  rent 
money  could  be  placed  to  its  credit.     He  promised 
to  go  with  her  after  dinner  to  see  Deacon  Haldane 
about  it.     Then,  just  as  every  minister  and  every 
office-seeker   always   does,   he   invited   Arabella   to 
remain  and  dine,  a  thing  Mrs.  Boggs,  for  some  rea- 
son, had  overlooked  doing  or  had  purposely  avoided. 
Arabella  accepted  because  she  knew  nothing  else  she^^ 
could   do,   and   she   followed   her   pastor   into   thefl| 
dining-room. 

Sammy  was  already  at  the  table  and  was  at  work 
upon  an  unbuttered  piece  of  bread.  An  older  boy, 
in  shirt  sleeves,  who  had  the  family  resemblance  and 
who  seemed  to  be  in  a  great  hurry,  was  also  seated. 
Mrs.  Boggs  sat  at  the  end  of  the  table  nearest  the 
kitchen  door,  holding  the  fat  three-year-old — Roger 
Williams — upon  her  lap.  She  appeared  a  little 


38  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

flustrated  at  first,  and  Arabella  was  permitted  to 
stand  while  Doctor  Boggs  brought  her  a  chair  from 
the  parlor  and  Mrs.  Boggs  lugged  Roger  Williams 
to  the  pantry  and  back  to  secure  an  extra  plate,  a 
bowl,  knife  and  fork  and  spoon  for  the  guest. 
Sammy  moved  toward  his  mother — instinctively  in 
that  direction — to  make  room  for  Miss  Somers. 

A  large  pan  of  something  that  was  covered  and 
that  was  piping  hot  was  before  Doctor  Boggs's 
plate.  The  Doctor  knew  what  it  was  and  was 
undoubtedly  fond  of  it,  for  he  was  short  in  the 
blessing  he  asked  for  it.  The  strange  boy  fidgeted 
around  in  his  chair  while  grace  was  being  said,  as 
though  his  time  was  limited.  The  Doctor  raised  the 
cover  and  served  the  fidgety  boy  first,  then  Arabella, 
then  Mrs.  Boggs,  then  Sammy  and  then  himself. 
Arabella  didn't  know  just  what  the  piece  de  resist- 
ance was  composed  of,  but  knew  it  was  made  of  corn 
meal  mostly,  with  square  bits  of  toasted  bread 
stirred  in,  and  when  a  little  milk  was  added  it  tasted 
mighty  good.  It  seemed  a  long  time  since  she  had 
eaten  anything,  and  she  had  felt  a  craving  for  some- 
^thing  ever  since  the  Doctor  ate  the  apple  in  the 
•ktudy.  The  dinner  satisfied  her.  For  some  reason 
she  could  not  keep  her  eyes  off  the  older  boy.  He 
fascinated  her.  He  was  thin,  nervous,  ill-mannered, 
and  his  face  was  of  an  ashy  paleness  that  betokened 
dissipation.  Arabella  observed  that  the  first  two 
fingers  of  his  right  hand  were  stained  a  yellowish 
green,  and  she  knew  he  smoked  cigarettes.  She  had 
learned  the  sign  in  Boston.  This,  and  the  fact  that 
Mrs.  Boggs  held  the  big,  fat  baby  at  table  while  she 


i 


DINNER    IN    THE    PARSONAGE  39 

poured  the  tea  and  tried  to  enjoy  her  dinner,  dis- 
turbed Arabella,  and  she  decided  then  and  there,  she 
would  never  care  to  be  a  minister's  wife  or  to  board 
in  a  minister's  family. 

During  the  meal  Sammy  was  very  attentive  to 
her.  He  passed  her  the  bread  and  butter,  the 
"Dutch  cheese,"  and  the  beet  pickles ;  took  her  bowl 
and  plate  away  and  brought  her  the  boiled  t ice  when 
dessert  was  served.  The  older  boy  did  not  wait  for 
dessert,  but  shoved  back  from  the  table  and  rushed 
out  the  door  as  though  he  was  going  to  a  fire. 

"Adoniram  works  at  Hooker's,  and  they  hardly 
give  him  time  to  eat,"  said  Doctor  Boggs  in  expla- 
nation of  the  boy's  sudden  exit. 

"Yes,  and  I  think  it's  wearin'  on  his  nerves,"  said 
his  mother. 

"He's  our  sixth  son,  and  we  named  him  Adoniram 
Judson,  after  our  beloved  missionary  to  Burmah/' 
said  the  father. 

This  was  about  the  only  conversation  that  took 
place  during  the  meal.  Arabella  could  not  account 
for  it  upon  any  other  theory  than  that  everybody 
was  hungry,  just  as  she  was.  She  cared  far  more 
to  think  and  eat  and  observe  her  surroundings  than, 
to  talk,  anyway ;  and  if  there  was  any  special  reason 
why  the  others  were  so  mum,  she  felt  like  thanking 
Providence  for  the  mummies. 


CHAPTER  VI 
A  SPINSTER'S  LODGINGS 

There  is  nothing  quite  so  inspiring  as  to  be  certain  we  are 
indispensable  in  a  particular  sphere.  The  assurance  will  drive 
a  host  of  agents  of  unrest  from  our  physical  castle. — Arabella 
Somers. 

i 

Deacon  Haldane  was  favorable  to  Arabella's 
having  the  class-room,  and  the  preliminaries  were 
agreeably  arranged.  The  young  woman's  drooping 
spirits  were  fairly  revived  as  she  started  out  to  visit 
some  friends — to  pass  the  time  until  her  father 
should  drive  in  for  her  at  sundown.  She  had  barely 
reached  the  gate  when  Doctor  Boggs  called  to  her 
and  rushed  out  to  make  a  suggestion  that  had  "just 
struck  him." 

"You  might  be  able  to  secure  accommodations  in 
the  parsonage,"  said"  he,  "so  many  of  the  children 
re  away  from  home  now.  I'm  sure  Mrs.  Boggs 
won't  mind  taking  you;  she'll  be  glad  to  get  the 
money.  We'll  make  you  one  of  the  family,  and  I 
think  you  can  be  quite  at  home  with  us." 

This  proposition  did  not  strike  Arabella  as  happily 
as  it  struck  her  pastor.  It  was  a  hard  blow  for 
her — the  hardest  she  had  ever  staggered  under,  and 
she  heroically  tried  to  rally  and  not  show  the  effects 
of  it.  She  hoped  the  Doctor  would  think  the  sud- 


A    SPINSTER  S    LODGINGS  41 

denness  of  it  was  what  caused  the  redness  of  her  face 
and  the  limpness  of  her  form.  She  found  it  difficult 
to  express  any  thanks  for  the  suggestion,  but  gave 
them  with  as  good  grace  as  possible.  Her  first 
impulse  was  to  go  straight  home  and  think  it  over, 
but  she  remembered  she  had  left  a  hand-bag  and  sun 
umbrella  in  the  parsonage  and  should  return  for 
them.  Otherwise  she  was  certain  .she  would  never 
have  cared  to  return  there  again.  The  thought  of 
going  there  to  live  was  chilling  and  forbidding. 
She  knew  she  could  never  stand  it.  She  would  be 
proscribed  more  than  ever,  her  liberties  would  be 
fewer,  and  her  critics  more  numerous.  The  prospect 
was  anything  but  pleasing.  Unconsciously,  how- 
ever, Sammy  crept  into  her  thoughts.  Something 
told  her  she  could  be  of  use  and  comfort  to  him ;  she 
might  give  him  encouragement  and  smooth  his  path- 
way. This  crowded  other  thoughts  upon  her.  There 
was  Adoniram  Judson,  ruining  his  life  with  the 
deadly  "coffin-nails,"  that  made  him  so  nervous,  so 
livid,  and  so  ill-mannered.  Possibly  she  might  do 
him  some  good,  might  dissuade  him  from  the  use  of 
cigarettes  entirely.  There  was  Mrs.  Boggs,  drag- 
ging out  a  weary  existence  lugging  around  a  big, 
healthy  boy,  old  enough  to  paddle  alone  and  cer- 
tainly to  feed  himself.  Possibly  she  might  be  able 
to  wean  the  child,  so  he  would  at  least  sit  by  himself 
and  feed  himself  at  table.  A  broad  field  of  mission- 
ary work,  right  in  her  pastor's  household,  loomed  up 
before  her,  and  she  concluded  that  the  Doctor's  call 
to  her  was  the  call  of  God  bidding  her  to  enter  the 
harvest.  Who  knew  but  that  she  might  influence 


42  A    STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

Doctor  Boggs  himself,  so  that  he  would  be  more 
humane  and  rational  in  the  punishment  of  his 
children  ? 

Thus  meditating,  Arabella  decided  it  was  best  to 
make  the  sacrifice  and  seek  the  shelter  proffered. 
She  returned  to  the  parsonage  and  interviewed  its 
mistress.  A  few  moments  later — after  Mrs.  Boggs 
had  preceded  her  to  put  them  in  order — she  found 
herself  surveying  her  new  quarters,  the  upstairs 
front  room.  It  was  a  large,  well-lighted  apartment, 
and  Arabella  readily  took  in  its  possibilities.  It 
could  be  made  airy,  and  comfortable,  and  homelike, 
and  as  it  was  accessible  by  a  front  hallway  and  stair- 
way, she  felt  she  would  be  quite  secluded  and  inde- 
pendent. This  feeling  grew  upon  her  as  Mrs. 
Boggs  gave  her  exclusive  rights  to  the  front  door, 
handed  her  the  key,  assured  her  she  could  come  and 
go  at  her  pleasure,  and  asked  her  to  feel  the  quarters 
were  her  own  and  to  make  herself  perfectly  at  home 
in  them. 

This  she  readily  did. 

As  the  excitement  and  business  of  the  day  had 
brought  her  a  tired  body  and  an  aching  head,  she 
threw  herself  upon  the  bed  and  was  soon  making 
dainty  white  dotted  mull  curtains,  hanging  pretty 
pictures,  arranging  pieces  of  furniture  and  bric-a- 
brac,  and  doing  other  things — all  in  her  dreams. 

A  bold  rap  at  the  door  ended  the  reverie  and 
brought  Arabella  to  her  feet.  It  was  Sammy  who 
fathered  the  rap,  and  he  was  an  immaculate  concep- 
tion of  cleanliness  and  happiness  as  he  entered  in 
response  to  the  invitation  given.  He  had  on  a  clean 


A    SPINSTER  S    LODGINGS  43 

waist,  his  hands  and  feet  had  been  given  a  special 
baptism,  and  his  shiny-wet  hair  was  plastered  down 
with  great  precision. 

"I — I  beg  your  pardon,  mam,"  he  stammered. 
"I  didn't  want  to  'trude.  I  didn't  want  to  'sturb 
you.  I — I  thought  you  might  like  some  drinkin' 
water."  As  he  said  this  he  placed  a  pitcher  of 
water,  a  tumbler  and  a  small  bunch  of  sweet  peas 
upon  the  table  by  the  door,  and  turned  to  leave. 

"I  don't  wish  you  to  go  so  soon,"  said  Arabella. 
"I  want  you  to  visit  with  me  a  minute.  Please  come 
and  sit  down  with  me.  Of  course  I  wanted  the 
drinking  water  and  I  thank  you  for  it;  it  was  very 
thoughtful  of  you.  I  have  wished  to  see  you  and 
talk  with  you  ever  since  our  first  meeting." 

"The  same  way  with  me,  too,"  said  Sammy; 
"that's  why  I  thought  of  the  drinkin'  water." 

"I  like  you  for  your  frankness,  and  for  many 
other  things,"  said  Arabella,  "and  I  want  you  to 
like  me." 

"I  do  like  you,"  returned  Sammy,  "  'cause  you 
didn't  tell  on  me.  I'm  awful  sorry,  too,  I  said  those 
bad  words  afore  you,  an'  I'll  never  do  it  again, 
never.  I  beg  your  pardons  for  doin'  it." 

"From  what  your  father  has  told  me  of  that 
horrid  man,  I  don't  blame  you  much." 

"Then  you  did  talk  about  it?" 

"Not  about  the  little  affair — that  shall  ever 
remain  our  secret,"  was  the  reply.  "Your  father 
told  me  about  the  shirt  and  the  cord-wood,  and 
about  his  never  receiving  either,  that  is  all.  He 
related  it  as  one  of  his  experiences.  Let  us  not 


44  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

refer  to  that  street  affair  again ;  of  course  I  forgive 
you." 

"I  hope  pa  won't  hear  of  it,"  said  Sammy,  "he 
always  whips  me  for  such  things.  He  came  near 
whipping  me  after  dinner,  only  he  wanted  to  go 
somewheres  with  you  and  didn't  have  time.  He 
was  mad  at  me  'cause  I  didn't  get  up  an'  offer  you 
my  chair;  said  I  acted  just  's  though  I  had  no 
bringin'  up,  an'  he  was  ashamed  of  me.  I  wish  you 
would  forgive  me  for  that,  too ;  truly  I  didn't  think 
about  it — I  was  so  int'rested.  I  guess  he  would 
have  stayed  long  'nough  to  whip  me  if  ma  hadn't 
started  in  scolding  him  just  then  for  invitin'  you 
to  dinner.  She  told  pa  he  was  always  doin'  it  when 
she  least  expected  it  an'  when  she  wasn't  prepared 
for  it;  said  'twan't  no  meal  to  offer  a  girl  who'd  just 
came  back  from  Boson;  she  felt  mort'fied  over  it 
an'  he  ought  to.  I  could  tell  all  the  time  they  was 
chewin'  the  rag  over  somethin'.  Didn't  you  notice 
it  ?  Pa  was  mad  at  me  an'  ma  was  mad  at  him.  I 
wish  they  wasn't  so.  Ma  says  you're  goin'  to  live 
with  us — mebbe  that  will  make  it  better.  I'm  awful 
glad  you're  goin'  to  stay — mebbe  I'll  not  get  licked 
so  much  then." 

"I  sincerely  hope  you  will  not  have  to  be  punished 
so  much,"  said  Arabella  as  she  drew  Sammy  close 
into  her  arms,  stroked  his  hair,  kissed  him,  and 
thanked  him  again  for  the  drinking  water. 

"I  want  you  to  come  often  to  see  me,"  she  con- 
tinued. "We  must  be  good  friends.  I  want  you 
to  always  come  to  me  when  you  are  in  trouble.  I 
wish  you  to  confide  in  me.  I  have  troubles  of  my 
own,  sometimes,  and  I  will  want  to  share  them  with 


A   SPINSTER  S   LODGINGS  45 

you.  I  desire  you  to  always  feel  free  to  ask  a  favor 
of  me." 

Sammy  started  again  to  leave  the  room.  He 
stopped,  hesitated,  and  said  with  some  diffidence : 
"There's  one  favor  I  want  to  ask  of  you  now.  I 
don't  want  you  to  wear  that  yellow  sash  no  more; 
no  good'll  come  of  it;  you  can't  have  no  luck  when 
you  do  it." 

Arabella  took  Sammy  by  the  hand,  drew  him  to 
her  again,  and  laughed  heartily  at  this  request, 
although  she  tried  hard  not  to  reveal  her  feelings. 

"Why,  Sammy,  what  possible  harm  can  come  to 
me  from  wearing  a  yellow  sash  ?" 

"I  don't  want  to  say  surely  harm'll  come  to  you, 
Miss  Somers,  but  I'm  sure  no  good  luck'll  come  to 
you." 

"I  can't  imagine  why  you  have  such  a  superstition 
against  a  yellow  sash,"  said  Arabella. 

"  'Tain't  just  against  a  yellow  sash — it's  against 
anythin'  that's  yellow,"  was  the  reply.  "It  never 
brought  no  good  luck  to  nobody,  and  I  know  many 
folks  it's  allers  brought  bad  luck  to,  the  same  as  it's 
done  to  me." 

This  was  an  interesting  topic  to  Arabella,  and  she 
begged  for  particulars.  Sammy  related  a  number 
of  his  personal  experiences  that  clearly  showed  he 
had  good  reasons  for  his  superstition.  Yellow  was 
his  "hoodoo." 

"It's  just  the  same  with  Ad,  too,"  said  Sammy. 
"Hooker  bought  a  bran'  new  d'livery  wagon  last 
summer.  It  had  yellow  wheels  and  yellow  runnin' 
gear.  Ad  was  d'liverin'  then;  'twas  afore  his  pro- 
mote inside.  I  give  him  warnin'  about  it.  The 


46  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

very  first  day  the  horse  run  away  with  him,  an'  the 
smash-up  took  more'n  three  months  of  Ad's  pay. 

"It  was  the  same  way  with  Timothy  Haldane, 
Deacon  Haldane's  son,  what  belongs  to  our  church. 
He  went  down  to  Rochester  an'  a  man  showed  him 
a  yellow  gold  brick,  an'  he  bought  it.  Tim  come 
near  a  losin'  his  farm  by  it.  His  wife  did  leave  him 
for  a  time  for  it. 

"  'Twas  just  the  same  with  widow  Townsend. 
She  bought  some  yellow  butter  color  from  a  man 
what  lives  in  Vermont  an'  she  used  it  to  color  her 
butter.  The  next  night  her  Jersey  up  an'  died.  I 
guess  she  was  an  honest  cow  and  wouldn't  stand  for 
it.  No,  siree,  I  don't  like  yellow  a  little  bit.  I 
won't  touch  it  if  I  can  help  it.  If  I'm  goin'  any- 
wheres an'  meet  black-eyed  Susans,  or  golden-rods, 
or  wild  poppies,  or  even  mustard,  I  don't  go  that 
way — I  go  'round." 

"But  I  have  worn  yellow  all  my  life  and  I  cannot 
see  that  it  has  brought  me  any  ill  luck,"  said 
Arabella. 

"Did  you  ever  get  married,  Miss  Somers  ?" 

"No,  of  course  not ;  if  so  my  name  would  not  be 
'Miss  Somers.' ' 

"That's  so,"  said  Sammy,  "I  didn't  think  of  that ; 
but  mebbe  you  would  have  been — mebbe  to  a 
mil'onair' — if  you'd  never  worn  it.  Truly,  no 
good'll  come  of  it." 

Arabella  promised,  if  it  would  please  him  better, 
never  to  wear  yellow  again — certainly  never  in  his 
presence. 

After  that  visit  Sammy  and  Arabella  were  fast 
friends. 


CHAPTER  VII 
BILL  TAYLOR'S  FALSE  REPORT 

You  can't  put  goodness  into  a  boy  with  a  horse-whip  and 
you  can't  drive  badness  out  of  him  with  a  razor-strop.  If 
you  want  to  make  an  angel  out  of  him  you  can  do  it  quicker 
with  a  dose  of  strychnine  or  a  horse-pistol. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

Arabella  spent  the  Sabbath  at  home,  absenting 
herself  from  church  services  for  the  first  time  since 
she  could  remember.  She  had  noticed  a  worldly 
languor  creeping  over  her  ever  since  her  tussle, 
single-handed,  with  Satan  in  the  study,  and  easily 
persuaded  herself  that,  inasmuch  as  she  knew  what 
the  sermon  was  about  and  had  been  treated  to  con- 
siderable portions  of  it,  she  would  lose  little  by 
remaining  away.  She  did  not  admire  the  spirit  of 
self-laudation  and  self-congratulation  pervading  the 
discourse,  and  argued  that  she  would  be  none  the 
better  for  hearing  a  repetition  of  it.  She  realized 
she  had  less  than  thirty  days  now  in  which,  to  pre- 
pare the  class-room,  secure  her  pupils,  and  begin  her 
life's  work  in  earnest,  and  desired  to  make  this  one 
Sabbath  day  count.  She  busied  herself  in  packing 
up  her  personal  effects,  her  wearing  apparel,  toilet 
articles,  books,  and  so  forth;  choosing  pictures  and 
pretty  things  for  her  room,  and  in  making  plans  for 
the  work  of  the  week. 


4-8  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Monday  morning,  bright  and  early,  she  was 
driven,  bag  and  baggage,  back  to  the  parsonage. 
Sammy  was  on  hand  to  assist  her  and  her  father  in 
carrying  the  trunks,  and  boxes,  and  belongings  up- 
stairs and  into  the  front  room.  Arabella  made  no 
effort  to  arrange  things,  more  than  to  shake  out  a 
few  skirts  and  hang  them  in  a  closet.  She  had 
engaged  a  scrub  woman  to  meet  her  at  the  class- 
room, and  a  carpenter  was  also  to  be  there,  and  she 
did  not  wish  to  keep  them  waiting.  Sammy  asked 
if  he  might  walk  with  her  as  far  as  the  church,  and 
secured  her  consent.  Then  he  ran  joyously  around 
to  the  study  and  asked  his  father  if  he  might  go  for 
the  mail.  His  father  was  favorable,  and  a  moment 
later  he  was  hopping  and  skipping  by  Arabella's 
side,  holding  her  hand  and  looking  up  into  her  face 
as  they  chatted  away  like  a  pair  of  magpies.  There 
was  not  a  happier  boy  in  the  Batesville  valley.  He 
tipped  his  cap  to  Arabella  in  parting  at  the  church, 
and  hurried  on  to  the  post-office.  When  he  peeked 
into  the  family  box  he  saw  a  paper  with  a  yellow 
label  on  it  and  a  yellow  envelope  showed  underneath 
it.  Sammy  wished  he  hadn't  come  for  the  mail. 
He  asked  Lena  Gibbons,  the  postmaster's  daughter 
who  waited  upon  him,  if  she  would  mind  placing 
the  envelope  inside  the  paper,  so  he  wouldn't  lose 
it,  and  she  did  it.  Somehow  Sammy  didn't  like 
that  yellow  letter  the  moment  he  saw  it.  It  wasn't 
usual  for  his  father  to  get  letters  in  the  Monday 
morning's  mail,  and  he  took  it  as  a  bad  sign.  He 
tucked  the  paper  inside  his  waist  and  hurried  home 
with  it.  He  hoped  no  one  meant  his  father  any 


BILL    TAYLOR  S    FALSE    REPORT  49 

harm,  and  decided  he  would  throw  the  paper  upon 
the  study  desk,  just  as  though  that  was  all  there  was 
of  it,  and  if  any  harm  should  come  from  it  he  would 
be  less  to  blame  for  it.  He  was  beginning  to  think 
more  of  his  father  now,  since  Arabella  had  talked 
to  him  about  a  pastor's  cares  and  anxieties,  and 
responsibilities,  and  tried  to  assure  him  his  father 
loved  his  children,  and  he  didn't  wish  to  bring  him 
any  ill  luck.  He  threw  the  paper  upon  the  desk, 
label  side  down,  and  passed  out,  crossing  the  fingers 
of  his  right  hand. 

Arabella  spent  the  morning  at  the  class-room  and 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  church,  visiting  old  acquaint- 
ances, unfolding  her  plans,  and  soliciting  children 
where  there  were  children  of  kindergarten  age. 
She  took  dinner  with  the  Haldanes  and  returned 
to  the  parsonage  just  in  time  for  supper.  Sammy 
was  not  at  the  table  and  she  missed  him.  She 
thought  she  could  clearly  discern  a  coldness  between 
her  pastor  and  his  helpmate,  but  tried  hard  not  to 
show  it. 

"I  hope  Sammy  isn't  sick,"  said  she,  looking  in 
the  direction  of  Mrs.  Boggs. 

"No,  Miss  Somers,  Sammy  is  not  sick,"  said  Mrs. 
Boggs,  looking  sternly  in  the  direction  of  Doctor 
Boggs. 

Arabella  saw  for  sure  the  cold-wave  signal  was 
up,  and  concluded  she  had  better  await  a  more 
favorable  opportunity  for  satisfying  her  curiosity 
regarding  Sammy.  She  didn't  care  much  for  her 
supper  and  was  glad  when  it  was  over. 


50  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Old  father  bear  went  around  the  house  to  his  den, 
and  Arabella  took  hold  and  assisted  mother  bear  in 
clearing  away  the  dishes.  After  rendering  consid- 
erable assistance  she  made  bold  to  ask : 

"Where's  Sammy?  I  wished  him  to  run  on  an 
errand  for  me." 

"Sammy  was  sent  to  bed  without  his  supper,"  said 
Mrs.  Boggs.  "His  father  gave  him  a  terrible  whip- 
ping— the  worst  whipping  of  his  life.  I  took  him 
to  task  for  it.  He  declares  Sammy  is  beyond 
redemption;  says  he  is  'rebellious,  stubborn,  tough 
and  profane,'  and  he  can't  manage  him.  I  don't 
believe  it,  Miss  Somers.  It's  a  shame  for  a  father 
to  lose  control  of  his  own  son.  I  don't  think  it's 
right,  either,  for  a  father  to  punish  a  son  when  he's 
angry.  It  isn't  a  punishment  then,  it's  merely  a 
beating.  Doctor  Boggs  lost  control  of  himself  this 
time.  He  nearly  always  does.  He  isn't  fit  to  pun- 
ish boys,  anyhow,  he's  so  severe.  He's  always  been 
that  way.  He's  whipped  the  other  boys  just  the 
same,  and  see  how  they've  turned  out.  'Twas  all 
over  that  worthless,  good-for-nothing  tattler,  too. 
I've  no  patience  with  it.  I  never  have  interfered, 
but  I'm  going  to  take  that  poor  boy  up  some  bread 
and  milk  if  the  Lord  never  forgives  me  for  it." 

"The  Lord  WILL  forgive  you  for  it,"  said 
Arabella,  her  eyes  wet  with  tears;  "and  more  than 
that,  He'll  not  forgive  you  if  you  don't  do  it.  I 
wish  I  might  do  it ;  I  am  very  fond  of  Sammy,  and 
if  I  did  it  no  fault  could  be  found  with  you  for 
doing  it." 


BILL  TAYLOR'S  FALSE  REPORT  51 

After  considerable  discussion,  in  which  Arabella 
was  let  into  much  of  the  family  history,  she  was  per- 
mitted to  carry  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  up  the  back 
stairway  to  Sammy's  chamber.  The  room  was 
nearly  dark,  and  Sammy  lay  upon  the  bed,  sobbing 
and  moaning  as  though  his  heart  would  break.  His 
face  was  buried  in  a  pillow  and  he  did  not  change 
position  as  his  caller  sat  down  upon  the  bedside  and 
took  one  of  his  hands  in  hers. 

"If  it  weren't  for  you  an'  Miss  Bella  I'd  leave  home 
an'  never  come  back,"  sobbed  Sammy.  "I  hate  my 
father.  He's  an  ugly  old  bear — a  tyrant,  a  brute. 
He  licked  me  harder'n  the  Devil  would  a  done  it. 
He  don't  love  me ;  he  doesn't  care  for  me ;  he  wishes 
I  was  dead.  I  wish  I  was  dead.  I  wish  his  lickin's 
would  kill  me,  then  mebbe  he'd  feel  better.  He 
never  believes  me.  He  believes  what  everybody 
tells  against  me.  That  old  Bill  Taylor  wrote  him 
a  lot  of  lies  about  me  an'  he  nearly  killed  me  for  it. 
He  wouldn't  lis'en  to  me,  but  he  believes  that  old 
hedge-pig.  He's  a  pretty  Christian  to  do  it.  I 
hate  him.  I  don't  want  to  live  with  him.  I'm 
sorry  you  have  to  live  with  him.  He's  a  tight- 
skinned,  narrow-eyed,  hard-hearted,  deep-water 
Baptist  an'  nothin'  else.  He  ain't  got  no  love  for 
any  of  his  children.  I  ain't  got  no  use  for  him. 
He  can  kill  me  afore  I'll  give  in,  either.  It's  all 
right  for  Miss  Bella  to  say  he  loves  me  and  wishes 
my  good.  I  don't  believe  it.  I  never  want  him  to 
feed  me,  to  look  at  me,  or  touch  me  again.  I'm 
goin'  to  run  away  from  home,  just  as  Charles  Spur- 
geon  did,  that's  what  I'll  do.  He  had  no  business 


52  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

lickin'  me  this  time.  Old  Bill  Taylor  lied  an'  I'll 
prove  it  by  Miss  Somers.  She  knows  all  about  it. 
I  told  him  so,  but  it  made  no  difFrence.  He 
wouldn't  lis'en.  He  wouldn't  have  lis'ened  if  it  'd 
been  the  angel  Gaybril  who  spoke  to  him.  He 
licked  me  till  I  couldn't  stand  up.  He  licked  me 
till  I've  got  great  ridges  all  over  me.  He  licked  me 
till  I'm  black  and  blue.  He  was  mad  'nough  to  kill 
me.  I  wish  his  whole  close-communin'  set  could 
sec  me  now.  He's  a  rip-snortin'  Christian,  he  is. 
He  can't  reason.  I  won't  live  where  he  is  no  longer." 

Arabella  saw  from  the  start  that  Sammy  was 
wound  up  again  and  that  there  would  be  little  use  in 
trying  to  interrupt  or  stop  him  until  he  was  run 
down.  When  he  had  concluded  this  speech  he  broke 
down  completely,  and  sobbed  and  moaned  harder 
than  ever.  He  quieted  a  little  after  several  moments, 
and  Arabella  spoke  to  him. 

"I  hope,  my  dear  Sammy,  you  will  remain  here 
for  my  sake  and  for  your  mother's  sake,"  said  she. 
"I  am  sorry  I  was  not  here  when  your  father 
received  that  letter  from  that  horrid  man.  I  might 
have  explained  matters.  I  am  going  to  try  and 
explain  them  now.  I  have  brought  you  some  bread 
and  milk  and  I  wish  you  would  sit  up  and  eat  it." 

"Oh,  dear,  I  didn't  know  it  was  you,  Miss  Somers, 
truly  I  didn't.  I  thought  it  was  ma.  'Twon't  do 
no  good  for  you  to  'splain  now.  The  horse's  out 
of  the  stable  door  an'  he  ain't  goin'  back  in,  nuther. 
'Twouldn't  have  made  no  difFrence  if  you'd  been 
here.  He  wouldn't  have  lis'ened  to  you.  He 
wouldn't  wait  to  hear  my  side.  He  never  does. 


BILL    TAYLOR  S    FALSE    REPORT  53 

Bill  Taylor  wrote  him  lies  in  that  yellow  letter  about 
me.  He  called  me  into  the  study  an'  stood  fairly 
pantin'  to  get  his  hands  on  me.  He  jerked  me 
'round  to  the  end  of  his  desk  and  said  like  a  giant : 
'What's  this  I've  been  hearin'  about  you?  You 
have  been  callin'  Mr.  Taylor  bad  names,  have  you  ?' 
I  said  I  would  'splain  it  all ;  said  you  knew  all  about 
it.  He  said :  'I  don't  care  for  'splanations.  What 
I  want  to  know  is,  did  you  call  Mr.  Taylor  bad 
names?'  He  ast  me  this  louder'n  thunder.  You'd 
a  tho't  he  was  defendin'  some  great  saint.  I  said : 
'Taylor  called  me  "Elder" — called  me  names  first.' 
'But  did  you  call  HIM  names — that's  what  I  want 
to  know?'  he  demanded  in  awful  tones.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  any  one  so  unreas'nable  ?  He  couldn't 
have  talked;  worse  to  a  canabull.  A  slave-driver 
couldn't  have  done  it  worse.  I  kept  tryin'  to  'splain, 
but  he  wouldn't  give  me  no  chance.  He  wouldn't 
give  me  a  show.  He  was  cock'd  and  prim'd  to  lick 
me,  an'  lick  me  hard,  an'  'twan't  no  use  to  say 
nothin'.  He's  always  been  the  same.  I  kept  tellin' 
him  he  was  wrong  an'  the  lickin'  would  do  me  no 
good,  but  he  kept  yellin'  at  me  how  he'd  tried  to 
teach  me  respect  for  my  elders,  an'  kept  whalin'  me 
while  doin'  it.  He's  an  old  brute  an'  I'm  glad  I  told 
him  so.  I'll  never  take  it  back.  I  knew  the  minit' 
I  saw  that  yellow  env'lope  somethin'  'd  come  of  it. 
I  snatch'd  it  an'  the  lyin'  letter  on  purpose  to  show 
you.  I'll  get  even  with  that  old  lyin'  Bill  Taylor  if 
I  stay  in  this  town  long  'nough,  you  see !" 

Saying    this,    Sammy    drew    a    badly-crumpled 
envelope  from  under  the  pillow  and  handed  it  to 


54  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Arabella.  "I  don't  want  to  give  you  any  bad  luck," 
said  he,  "but  I  guess  that  yellow  thing  has  done  all 
the  harm  it  ever  can."  Arabella  assured  him  she 
was  not  afraid  of  it.  She  lighted  the  hand  lamp 
that  stood  upon  the  wash-stand,  drew  the  sheet  of 
paper  from  the  envelope,  smoothed  out  its  many 
wrinkles  as  best  she  could,  and  read : 

"Elder  Boggs,  if  you  don't  take  care  of  that  Boy  of  yourn  i 
Will,  he  Keeps  callin'  Me  names,  calls  Me  A  Drunkered.  A 
liar.  And  A  theef.  i  Will  Not  stand  It,  no  longer,  he  Up 
Set  My  tray  for  Me.  Put  Nicks  In  My  adds.  And,  Nearly 
ruint  My  speritleval.  he  Orght  To  Be  sent,  To  A  reform- 
etery.  WM.  TAYLOR. 

"aug.  7." 

Upon  reading  this  Arabella  could  hardly  contain 
herself.  For  fear  she  might  too  clearly  reveal  her 
anger  to  Sammy,  she  blew  out  the  light.  Then  with 
a  moistened  towel  she  bathed  the  face  and  hands  of 
the  sobbing  boy  over  and  over  again,  as  she  held  him 
in  her  arms,  bit  her  lips,  and  tried  to  suppress  her 
emotions.  Between  the  sobs  and  defiant  sentences 
Sammy  ate  the  bread  and  milk,  and  then  fell  asleep, 
exhausted,  nervous  and  feverish. 

Arabella  did  that  night  what  she  had  never  done 
before — she  undressed  a  child. 

With  the  letter  in  her  possession,  and  with 
Sammy's  description  of  his  flogging  so  indelibly 
fixed  upon  her  mind,  she  had  a  determined  struggle 
with  herself.  She  wished  to  fly  to  that  dungeon  of 
punishment,  tell  her  version  of  the  affair  to  her 
pastor,  and  denounce  him  and  his  whipping-post  in 
the  severest  of  terms.  She  wished  she  might  fly  to 


BILL  TAYLOR'S  FALSE  REPORT  55 

that  miserable  wretch,  Taylor,  and  choke  him  until 
his  tongue  ran  out  and  he  was  red  in  the  face.  She 
was  boiling  with  indignation,  resentment,  and  anger, 
and  when  she  stopped  to  think  how  placid  her  life 
had  always  been,  the  fact  frightened  her.  She 
sought  Divine  grace,  but  all  to  no  purpose ;  the  Devil 
was  urging  her  on  too  stoutly.  She  decided,  how- 
ever, she  would  wait  until  morning  before  putting 
her  determined  plans  into  execution.  With  a  heavy 
heart  and  a  swimming  head  she  went  to  her  room 
and  to  bed,  but  not  to  rest.  Twice  during  the  night 
she  tip-toed  down  the  long  hallway,  carrying  a  bottle 
of  witch  hazel  and  a  soft  handkerchief  of  linen  with 
her ;  but  each  time  she  found  Sammy  in  a  deep,  fitful 
sleep  that  she  thought  best  not  to  disturb.  As  for 
herself,  she  could  not  sleep  a  wink. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    HOME    MISSIONARY    AT    WORK 

It  takes  some  nerve  to  head  off  a  woman  when  her  face  is 
sot  a  certain  way.  You  can  much  easier  head  off  a  cow  that's 
bound  to  go  where  it's  calf  is. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

There  were  few  words  spoken  at  breakfast  the 
next  morning.  Sammy  was  not  present.  Arabella 
ate  but  little,  and  did  not  condescend  to  thank  Doctor 
Boggs  when  he  helped  her  to  it;  neither  did  she 
remain  for  the  family  devotions  that  followed  the 
meal.  She  was  not  in  a  devout  spirit.  When 
prayers  were  over,  and  she  was  sure  of  it,  she  re- 
turned, with  method  in  her  willingness,  to  assist 
Mrs.  Boggs  in  "clearing  the  table"  and  "doing  the 
dishes."  Arabella  had  learned  what  a  great  many 
others  before  her  had  discovered,  that  the  best  time 
to  have  a  heart-to-heart  talk  with  a  person — to  speak 
one's  mind  the  plainest — is  when  you  are  rendering 
the  person  a  service.  Her  hands  were  in  the  dish- 
water when  she  ventured  to  remark : 

"I  think  Doctor  Boggs  was  far  too  hasty  in  pun- 
ishing Sammy  yesterday.  I  know  all  about  that 
affair  with  Taylor  and  could  have  told  him  the  truth 
concerning  it.  Taylor's  letter  is  a  falsehood.  Doctor 
Boggs  described  the  man  to  me  as  a  worthless 


THE    HOME    MISSIONARY   AT    WORK  57 

wretch,  and  I  am  surprised  that  he  accepted  his  word 
as  against  that  of  his  own  son." 

"Wretch!"  said  Mrs.  Boggs,  "he's  worse  than 
that.  He's  absolutely  the  most  good-for-nothing 
old  coot  I  ever  knew.  Doctor  Boggs  has  had  one 
experience  with  him.  The  last  time  he  was  married 
the  Doctor  did  it.  I  told  him  then  he  ought  not  to 
feel  proud  of  it.  It  turned  out  just  as  I  thought 
it  would.  That  miserable  apology  for  a  man  has 
never  brought  back  the  shirt  he  was  married  in  and 
that  I  paid  98  cents  for  at  Hooker's  only  a  year  ago 
last  Christmas,  and  it  was  a  bargain,  too.  He  isn't 
worth  anything;  you  can't  collect  a  cent  from  him; 
he's  utterly  irresponsible.  The  Doctor  gives  me  the 
wedding  fees,  but  I'll  give  that  fee,  and  the  shirt 
money  besides,  to  any  one  who'll  collect  it.  It's  a 
shame  the  Doctor  would  punish  a  child  for  anything 
Taylor  would  complain  of.  They  tell  me  the  Free 
Methodists  have  proselyted  him  and  his  wife  and 
that  Taylor's  working  some  now.  I  hope  it's  true." 

"If  I  were  in  your  place  I'd  interest  myself  some- 
what in  the  matter  of  the  children's  punishments. 
I  would  at  least  know  why  they  were  being  pun- 
ished." Arabella  said  this  with  some  defiance  and 
much  earnestness. 

' 'Tain't  no  use,  Miss  Somers.  We  started  out 
that  way.  It  didn't  work.  Whenever  I  undertook 
to  punish  a  child  the  Doctor  would  get  mad,  take  the 
child's  part,  and  act  sulky  and  grouty  toward  me  for 
the  rest  of  the  day.  If  he  did  the  whipping  where 
I  could  see  it  done  it  always  harrowed  me  up— I'd 
side  with  the  child,  and  scold  him.  We  were  criss- 


58  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

crossed  this  way  most  of  the  time,  and  we  concluded, 
after  prayer  over  it,  that  only  one  of  us  should  do 
the  whipping,  and  out  of  sight  of  the  other.  I  had 
about  all  I  could  do  caring  for  the  children's  clothes 
and  persons,  and  in  preparing  their  meals,  so  I  asked 
the  Doctor  to  take  it  in  his  own  hands.  He  took  it 
and  moved  the  whole  institution  out  of  my  sight, 
out  into  the  study." 

"It  seems  to  me  the  'whole  institution'  has  grown 
to  be  too  much  of  an  'institution/  and  that  it  is  pro- 
ceeding without  much  rhyme  or  reason." 

"I've  thought  that  for  a  long  time.  The  Doctor 
whips  for  too  little  cause,  sometimes  for  no  cause 
at  all,  and  is  always  too  severe.  I've  talked  with 
him  about  it,  but  it  does  no  good.  He's  so  afraid 
he  will  disobey  the  Divine  injunction  'to  train  up  a 
child  in  the  way  h'e  should  go,'  that  he  trains  and 
prunes  without  discrimination,  judgment  or  good 
sense,  until  the  child  goes  the  way  neither  he  nor 
Divinity  wants  him  to.  He  has  overdone  the  thing 
with  all  the  boys.  I  do  wish  some  one  would  show 
him  the  error  of  his  ways.  He's  set  and  stubborn 
about  it." 

Roger  Williams  came  up  just,  then,  tugged  at  his 
mother's  skirts,  and  cried  for  her  to  take  him.  This 
gave  Arabella  an  opening  in  a  new  direction. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  continue  to  lug  around  a 
big,  fat  boy  like  that.  He's  much  too  big  for  you 
to  carry  and  it  saps  your  strength.  He's  big  enough 
to  go  it  alone  and  old  enough  to  sit  by  himself  and 
feed  himself  at  the  table.  He  ought  to  be  weaned 


THE    HOME    MISSIONARY    AT    WORK  59 

from  these  things  and  if  I  were  in  your  place  I'd  do 
it.  I'd  teach  him  independence." 

"Doctor  Boggs  talks  the  same  way  and  acts  as 
though  he'd  like  to  get  his  hands  on  him,  but  so 
far,  thank  Heavens,  I've  managed  the  boy  myself. 
We've  always  had  scenes  when  we've  taught  the 
children  to  sit  and  feed  themselves  at  table.  It's 
never  been  accomplished  without  many  severe 
spankings,  and  I  don't  feel  equal  to  it.  The  Doctor 
spanks  so  hard  that  I  sometimes  fear  results.  Then, 
too,  it's  the  beginning  of  his  exercise  of  authority 
over  the  children  and  I've  determined  to  keep  little 
Roger  out  of  his  hands  as  long  as  I  can." 

"If  you  will  furnish  the  high  chair  I  will  agree 
to  wean  Roger  Williams  from  your  lap  inside  of 
twenty-four  hours,  and  without  any  spankings, 
either,"  said  Arabella,  with  absolute  confidence.  "I 
think  there  are  natural  ways  for  handling  a  child, 
and  ways  that  nature  suggests  are  rational  and 
humane  always.  I'd  like  to  try  it  once." 

"Very  well,  Miss  Somers.  You  have  never  had 
children,  certainly  you've  not  brought  up  a  whole 
family,  but  if  you  think  you  can  accomplish  what 
parents  have  failed  in,  I  promise  to  give  you  the 
chance.  It  will  be  Roger's  birthday  on  Thursday; 
he  will  be  three  then,  and  I  will  make  him  a  present 
of  a  new  high  chair — the  one  the  other  boys  had 
has  gone  to  pieces — and  you  can  make  him  a  present 
of  his  lessons  in  independence.  You  can  give  us  all 
the  benefit  of  your  first  exposition  of  rational  and 
humane  methods  of  child  training.  You  can  make 
this  your  first  specimen  of  kindergarten  work." 


60  A  STREAK  OF  YELLOW 

There  was  some  sarcasm  in  this  and  Arabella 
noticed  it,  but  merely  expressed  her  pleasure  at  the 
promise  given.  The  two  talked  along  similar  lines 
until  the  last  dish  was  placed  in  the  pantry  and  the 
dish-pan  had  been  well  scoured  and  hung  upon  its 
nail.  Then  Arabella  carried  the  breakfast  up  to 
Sammy  that  had  been  warming  the  while,  and  sat 
upon  the  bedside  while  he  ate  it.  She  tenderly 
bathed  his  face  and  hands  with  a  moistened  towel 
before  he  ate,  and  his  back  and  arms  with  the  witch 
hazel  she  had  left  upon  the  wash-stand,  when  he 
was  through.  She  begged  Sammy  to  visit  her  later 
in  the  day,  kissed  him  and  went  to  her  room. 

There  was  something  stirring  in  Arabella's  quar- 
ters that  morning.  She  had  so  much  to  do  she 
knew  not  which  way  to  turn  first.  She  took  paper, 
pen  and  ink  from  her  trunk,  sat  down  at  the  little 
table  and  hurriedly,  but  boldly,  wrote  to  "Wm. 
Taylor,  City."  She  wrote  that  she  had  witnessed 
the  meeting  between  him  and  Sammy  Boggs  the 
preceding  Saturday  and  could  and  would  testify 
that  his  written  version  of  it,  upon  which  Sammy 
had  been  most  severely  punished,  was  a  wilful  and 
malicious  perversion  of  the  truth.  She  detailed 
how  his  persistent  picking  at  Sammy  and  his  calling 
him  "Elder"  had  driven  the  boy  into  rebellion,  and 
said,  unless  he  should  make  suitable  apology,  she 
would  carry  his  letter  and  all  the  facts  into  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  or  into  the  Free 
Methodist  Church,  if  he  was  now  a  member  of  that 
organization.  She  wrote  that,  in  her  opinion,  an 
honest  man  would  keep  his  promises  and  return 


THE    HOME    MISSIONARY    AT    WORK  6 1 

borrowed  articles.  The  thought  of  blackmail  never 
occurred  to  her,  but,  judging  rightly  Taylor  was  a 
coward,  she  made  the  suggestion  that  an  account  of 
the  wedding  transaction  might  make  spicy  reading 
in  the  Batesville  correspondence  to  the  Rochester 
Chronicle^  and  ended  by  saying  she  would  expect  to 
hear  from  him  soon. 

Arabella  herself  was  no  coward.  She  signed  the 
communication  in  the  same  bold  hand  in  which  it 
was  written :  "Arabella  A.  Somers,  residence  at 
the  Baptist  Parsonage."  She  kept  the  writing  of 
the  letter  a  secret  and  personally  mailed  it  later  in 
the  day. 

She  then  took  several  books  from  one  of  the  boxes 
that  remained  unpacked,  found  the  one  desired,  a 
Physiology  she  had  studied  in  Boston,  turned  to  the 
chapter  treating  of  the  effects  of  alcoholic  liquors 
and  narcotics  upon  the  human  system,  turned  down 
the  leaves  and  marked  around  the  paragraph 
describing  the  deadly  work  of  cigarettes.  She  took 
the  book  to  Adoniram's  room,  ventured  in,  and 
placed  it,  open,  upon  the  table. 

Then  she  returned  to  her  room,  took  up  her 
Baxter's  Bible,  turned  to  the  concordance  and  sub- 
ject-index at  the  back  and  looked  eagerly  and  long 
for  Scriptural  passages  bearing  upon  the  treatment 
of  children  by  their  parents.  She  hoped  to  find 
where  moral  suasion  was  recommended,  or  where 
severe  punishments  were  condemned.  She  looked 
and  looked,  but  seemingly  in  vain.  The  whole  Bible 
appeared  to  her  made  up  of  admonitions  to  children ; 
there  were  many  passages  telling  children  what  they 


62  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

should  do  and  what  they  should  not  do.  Every- 
thing indicated  to  her  that  parents  in  Bible  times 
flogged  their  offspring  and  all  Biblical  instruction 
seemed  in  that  direction.  It  made  her  discouraged 
and  blue.  There  was  not  a  single  instance,  so  far 
as  she  could  discover,  where  parents  were  cautioned 
to  understand  their  children,  to  practice  moderation 
and  to  control  them  by  loving  and  kindly  methods. 
The  concordance  and  subject-index  failed  to  reveal 
a  single  verse  to  help  her.  She  found  a  few  pas- 
sages, however,  that  she  made  note  of.  If  they  did 
not  exactly  suit  her  purpose  she  argued  they  might 
start  a  train  of  thought  along  the  desired  line. 

Knowing  that  Doctor  Boggs  had  gone  to  the 
village,  she  took  the  notes  she  had  made,  went  down 
the  front  stairs  and  around  the  house  by  the  long 
and  pathless  way  and  entered  the  study.  She  found 
the  pastor's  flexible  Bible,  the  one  he  used  most  and 
marked  most,  the  one  he  read  from  in  church  and 
prayer  meetings,  and,  with  a  blue  pencil  she  had 
especially  sharpened  and  brought  for  the  purpose, 
she  marked  plainly  a  score  or  more  passages,  mak* 
ing  big,  plain  borders  with  square  corners  around 
each,  thus: 


Blessed  are  the  merciful  for  they  shall 
obtain  mercy. 


All  through  the  book  she  marked  verses  that  she 
thought  might  attract  her  pastor's   attention   and 


THE    HOME    MISSIONARY   AT    WORK  63 

lead  him  to  stay  his  hand  in  the  matter  of  punish- 
ments. In  Proverbs  she  marked  "The  merciful  man 
doeth  good  to  his  own  soul;  but  he  that  is  cruel 
troubleth  his  own  flesh" ;  in  Second  Timothy,  "Be 
gentle  unto  all  men,  apt  to  teach,  patient" ;  in 
Ephesians,  "Provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath"; 
in  Philippians,  "Let  your  moderation  be  known  unto 
all  men" ;  in  St.  Luke,  "Be  ye  therefore  merciful, 
as  your  Father  also  is  merciful,"  and  so  on. 

She  replaced  the  Bible  where  she  found  it  and 
returned  to  her  room.  The  forenoon  had  gone  and 
she  found  her  energies  flagging  and  her  spirits 
drooping.  She  knelt  and  prayed  for  the  first  time 
since  taking  possession  of  the  new  quarters,  asking 
God  to  bless  the  work  of  the  morning,  to  nourish 
and  water  the  seed  she  had  sown  that  it  might  bear 
some  precious  fruit.  Life  in  Batesville  seemed  a 
little  strenuous  to  her  for  once. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEN   DAN    RICE    CAME   TO    TOWN 

Modern  kids  think  they've  seen  lots,  but  they've  missed 
much,  too,  by  bein'  born  late.  They've  never  seen  a  wagon- 
show  come  to  town. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

After  dinner  Arabella  was  getting  ready  to  go  to 
the  class-room  when  Sammy  appeared  at  her  open 
door  and  was  given  a  cordial  welcome.  She  found 
him  full  of  love  and  tenderness  for  all  mankind,  save 
William  Taylor  and  his  father.  He  was  still  in 
open  rebellion  against  his  father  and  declared  and 
redeclared  his  intention  of  running  away  from 
home;  said  he  had  laid  his  plans  and  knew  where 
he  was  going  and  all  about  it;  he  would  first  walk 
to  Chili  Station  and  there  he  would  steal  a  ride  on 
a  freight  or  a  passenger  to  Rochester,  and  in 
Rochester  he  would  join  out  with  a  circus.  Roches- 
ter was  so  big  a  place  Sammy  thought  a  continuous 
ring  performance  was  going  on  there,  and  all  he 
would  have  to  do  was  to  follow  the  "gold  chariot" 
until  he  located  it.  He  had  seen  Dan  Rice's  circus 
come  into  town  the  summer  before,  and  had  seen 
the  parade,  and  the  old  bills  were  still  a  great 
attraction  to  him.  He  had  possessed  a  considerable 
yearning  to  be  a  ring-master,  a  rider,  or  an  "acro- 
bater,"  and  the  fever  had  broken  out  now  worse 


WHEN   DAN   RICE   CAME   TO   TOWN  65 

than  ever.  He  argued  that  it  would  not  only  serve 
his  best  desire,  but  it  would  be  a  splendid  piece  of 
retaliation  for  him  to  go  with  a  circus  and  to  go  at 
once,  especially  if  his  father  should  hear  he  had 
gone.  He  wanted  to  punish  his  father  by  running 
away,  and  as  his  father  hated  a  circus  next  to  a 
saloon,  it  would  be  a  most  severe  punishment  he 
was  inflicting.  The  plans  were  all  unfolded  to 
Arabella,  who  listened  patiently,  without  crossing 
him,  making  light  of  him,  or  attempting  to  dissuade 
him.  She  adroitly  tried  to  direct  his  thoughts  to 
other  things,  that  is  all. 

"Hop  says  he's  goin'  to  be  a  star  in  a  theatre  an' 
I  don't  see  why  I  can't  be  a  actor  in  a  circus," 
remarked  Sammy. 

"Of  course  you  can,  and  a  right  good  one,  too," 
said  Arabella.  "But  who  is  this  'Hop'  you  speak 
about  ?  You  have  not  told  me  of  him." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have.  He's  Benny,  my  chum.  'Hop' 
an'  'Ben'  are  the  same  thing.  All  us  fellers  in  this 
town  have  two  or  three  names  apiece,  nick-names 
an'  others.  I've  told  you  about  mine.  Ben's  Bible 
name  is  Benjamin  Franklin  Homer  Hopkins — ain't 
that  a  whopper?  'Twould  take  too  much  time  to 
call  him  that  anywheres  else  but  in  the  Bible.  You 
see  it's  this  way.  His  father's  name's  Benjamin 
Franklin  Hopkins  an'  he  wanted  Ben  named  after 
him  an'  they  did  it,  but  added  the  name  Homer  so's 
folks  could  tell  them  apart.  Benny's  mother  always 
calls  him  'Homer,'  the  teacher  calls  him  'Franklin,' 
some  of  the  boys  call  him  'Hop,'  some  'Ben/  some 
'Frank/  an'  others  'Benny.'  It's  all  the  same  boy, 


66  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

though,  and  no  matter  which  name  is  used  us  kids 
know  who's  meant  by  it.  It's  the  same  way  with 
my  brother,  Adoniram  Judson,  what  you  have  met. 
Pa  an'  ma  are  the  only  ones  who  call  him  the  whole 
thing.  Most  all  the  boys  call  him  'Ad,'  down 
around  the  store  they  call  him  'Jud,'  the  sissy  boys 
call  him  'Addie,'  an'  his  best  girl — his  solid  lump 
o'  sweetness,  Lora  Williams — calls  him  'Juddie.' 
I'd  rather  be  called  anythin'  but  that,  wouldn't  you  ? 
It  sounds  too  soft  for  a  kid.  Ben  Hopkins's  the 
bulliest  boy  in  this  town,  Miss  Somers.  He's  always 
doin'  things.  I  wish  you  knew  him  once.  Wouldn't 
you  like  to  know  him?  He  says  he'd  like  to  know 
you,  'cause  you're  the  right  sort  an'  don't  squeal  on 
a  feller  every  time  you  get  a  chance.  He  an'  me's 
talked  about  you  an'  he's  awful  willin'  to  come  over. 
Ben's  all  show,  or  lodge,  or  big  things  like  that — 
p'rades  an'  railroads.  He's  allers  'nitiatin'  us  kids 
into  some  Royal  Bumpers  Society  or  workin'  us 
into  some  mysterie  where  there's  curt'ins,  an'  blind- 
foldin's,  an'  water-tubs,  an'  things  like  that.  He 
gets  us  into  a  show  in  the  barn  nearly  every  week, 
where  he's  star  actor,  or  'heavy  man,'  or  'leadin' 
man,'  as  he  calls  it,  an'  he's  the  boss  of  the  show  an' 
keeps  all  the  pins.  I  like  him,  though,  mighty  well 
— he's  'riginal  an'  allers  good-natur'd.  He  ast  me 
if  you'd  said  anythin'  about  seein'  any  shows  in 
Bos'on.  He's  goin'  to  get  up  a  spectac'lar  before 
school  begins.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  spectac'lar, 
Miss  Somers?  Do  you  know  any  show  pieces? 
Can  you  tell  us  about  a  show?" 

"I  have  never  been  to  a  theatre ;  that  is,  not  to  a 


WHEN   DAN    RICE    CAME   TO   TOWN  67 

regular  theatre,"  answered  Arabella.  "I  once  went 
to  see  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  under  canvas.  That  has 
a  number  of  tableaux  and  I  suppose  is  nearer  the 
spectacular  than  anything  else  I  have  ever  wit- 
nessed. I  have  also  seen  Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar- 
room.' Yes,  and  once  I  went  to  a  large  auditorium 
in  Boston  to  see  and  hear  the  cantata  of  Queen 
Esther,  and  I've  heard  the  celebrated  Berger  Family 
Bell-Ringers,  and  Pixley  &  Grannis  once,  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church  over  in  Churchville." 

Sammy  inquired  minutely  about  all  of  these,  what 
they  were  like,  how  many  persons  were  in  each  and 
which  Arabella  liked  the  best,  and  was  greatly 
delighted  with  the  descriptions  given.  He  forgot 
all  about  his  plans  to  run  away  from  home,  just  as 
his  hostess  hoped  he  would,  and  begged  the  privilege 
of  inviting  Benny  over  that  he  might  hear  about 
them.  Arabella  said  she  would  be  at  home  that 
evening  and  would  be  delighted  to  entertain  them. 
She  had  told  Sammy  that  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  was 
her  favorite  of  the  plays  she  had  seen  and  that  she 
had  a  copy  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  great  work  -an  illus- 
trated copy — with  her  books  at  home,  and  she  would 
get  it  the  next  time  she  visited  the  farm,  and  would 
show  and  read  it  to  them.  This  promise  made 
Sammy  more  delighted  than  ever  and  he  could 
hardly  wait  to  break  the  good  news  to  Benny. 

That  evening  bouquets  of  nasturtiums  and  sweet 
peas  decorated  Arabella's  dresser,  while  a  plate  of 
rare  old  Holland  blue  was  upon  her  table  filled  with 
hollyhock  blossoms.  They  were  tokens  of  esteem 
from  Sammy  and  strong  bids  for  a  better  acquaint- 


68  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

ance  from  Ben.  Sam  had  suggested  the  bouquets 
and  Benny's  mother  had  kindly  consented  to  spare 
them  from  her  garden,  but  not  until  she  had 
expressed  a  fear  that  a  young  lady  of  such  "arrogant 
Bostonian  airs"  might  not  be  overjoyed  on  receiving 
"such  plain  and  common  country  flowers."  Arabella 
expressed  in  many  ways  her  appreciation  of  the 
tokens  and,  as  a  particular  mark,  placed  the  sweet 
peas  in  the  center  of  the  dinner  table,  where  the 
family  might  enjoy  them.  Sammy  was  at  dinner, 
as  chipper  and  as  active  as  a  squirrel. 

Ben  came  over  exactly  at  seven  and  said  he  could 
stay  until  eight-thirty.  He  was  dressed  in  his  best 
and  was  escorted  up  by  Sammy,  where  the  welcome 
was  royal  and  the  introduction  most  informal.  Ben 
was  a  fat,  roly-poly  boy,  with  big  black  eyes,  deep 
dimples,  and  every  indication  of  jollity.  His  ruffled 
collar  and  ruffled  cuffs  seemed  to  annoy  him  greatly, 
and  Arabella  said  he  need  not  wear  them  the  next 
time  he  came  over.  The  boys  were  treated  to  some 
stuffed  dates  and  salted  peanuts,  stuffed  and  salted 
by  their  hostess — the  first  they  had  ever  eaten.  The 
three  were  soon  as  comfortable  and  confidential  as 
though  they  had  lived  together  in  that  room  all  their 
lives.  They  settled  down  upon  a  sofa,  already  filled 
with  pillows,  and  the  group  was  interesting  and 
picturesque.  Of  course  Arabella  was  the  central 
figure,  and  the  boys  snuggled  close  up  to  her,  leaned 
their  elbows  in  her  lap,  put  arms  upon  her  shoul- 
ders, held  her  hands,  and  looked  wonderingly,  ap- 
provingly, and  eagerly  into  her  eyes,  as  the  spirit 
moved  them,  and  the  descriptions  progressed.  Ara- 


WHEN   DAN   RICE    CAME   TO    TOWN  69 

bella  gave  her  impressions  of  the  plays  she  had  wit- 
nessed, and  Benny  seemed  as  delighted  as  Sammy 
had  been,  while  Sammy  showed  no  lack  of  interest 
from  the  repetition. 

Ben  said  he  guessed  he  couldn't  org'nize  bell- 
ringers,  as  he  didn't  know  where  he  could  get  bells 
enough,  and  cow-bells  wouldn't  do.  He  couldn't 
sing  well  'nough  to  be  Queen  Esther,  and  besides 
that  was  a  girl's  part,  and  he  didn't  like  a  play 
where  a  girl  was  leadin'  man.  He  thought  he  could 
get  up  an  Uncle  Tom's  company  all  right,  and  he 
liked  the  tableaux — he'd  seen  some  in  the  school 
"ex'bitions." 

"My  pa  says  he's  played  leadin'  part  in  a  Uncle 
Tom's  company,"  said  Ben.  "He  used  to  lead  the 
blood-houn's  in  the  street  p'rade.  Ma  says  that's 
a  joke,  but  I  don't  think  it's  a  joke.  I  wouldn't 
any  more'n  do  it  than  I'd  feed  a  lion  raw  meat  out 
of  my  hand.  Them  blood-houn's  is  dang'rous. 
We'll  not  have  the  real  kind." 

"I  led  the  trick  mule  once  for  Dan  Rice,"  said 
Sammy,  "or  I  was  just  goin'  to  do  it  when  Deaney 
come  along  an'  said  pa  was  lookin'  for  me  an'  Jud." 

"I  did/  lead  him,"  said  Ben.  "I  took  the  rope 
from  Sammy,  didn't  I,  Sam?  But  I  didn't  get  in 
for  doin'  it  an'  cleanin'  them  old  tin  lamps,  as  the 
man  promised  me.  Didn't  we  have  a  great  time 
that  day,  though  ?" 

"I  guess  I'll  never  forget  it." 

"Please  tell  me  about  it,"  said  Arabella. 

'  'Twas  last  summer  when  Dan  Rice's  come  to 
town " 


7°  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

"Tell  her  about  our  string  scheme,  first,"  inter- 
rupted Ben. 

"Well,  we  was  afraid  we  wouldn't  get  up  in  time 
to  see  it  come  in.  Ben  an'  me  tied  strings  to  our 
Tom  Bumbles,  long  'nough  to  reach  out  of  the  win- 
dow down  to  the  ground,  an'  the  'greement  was  that 
the  fellow  up  first  was  to  pull  t'other  one's  string 
and  get  him  up,  an' " 

"We  calc'lated  we'd  want  to  be  up  at  five,  an'  I 
didn't  sleep  hardly  any  first  part  of  the  night." 

"Neither'd  I." 

"Guess  we'd  been  sleepin'  yet  if  't  hadn't  been 
for  Jud." 

"Jud  was  layin'  for  it,  too.  He  come  by  my  door, 
come  in  an'  shook  me  an'  ast  if  I  was  n't  goin'  to  see 
the  show  come  in.  That  waked  me  an'  I  dressed  in 
a  jiffy,  just  my  waist,  an'  trousers,  an'  straw  hat, 
an'  I  hustled  over  an'  jerked  Ben's  string.  It  didn't 
work — it  had  come  loose  from  his  toe  someway — 
an'  I  had  to  throw  pebbles  in  through  his  winder, 
but  them  caught  him  all  right." 

"Jud  wouldn't  wait  for  us." 

"No ;  Jud  wouldn't  wait,  an'  when  we  caught  up 
to  him  he  was  throwin'  away  a  rattan,  or  somethin' 
he'd  been  smokin'." 

"We  went  out  on  the  Scottville  road  afore  the 
sun  was  up  hardly — the  circus  come  in  that  way. 
There  was  dew  on  the  grass,  an'  my  feet  and  legs 
got  awful  cold  when  we  went  at  the  side,  and  't  was 
too  dusty  in  the  tracks  to  go  there;  but  some  of  the 
kids  ahead  of  /us  did,  we  could  see  their  prints." 

"I — I  spied  the  first  wagon !"  ejaculated  Ben. 


WHEN    DAN    RICE    CAME   TO    TOWN  7 1 

"  Twas  nothin'  but  mules,"  said  Sam.  "Six  Wa- 
bash  mules  with  a  pole-wagon." 

"I  don't  care ;  I  seen  it  first,  all  the  same." 

"There  was  plenty  of  that  kind,  with  poles,  an' 
stakes,  an'  seats,  an'  lightin'  ap'ratus,  an'  such. 
'Twas  an  hour  'fore  anythin'  good  come  along, 
though.  Then  come  a  lot  of  actors'  wagons,  cov- 
ered, an'  black  curt'ins  all  'round  'em,  with  spotted 
ponies  tied  behind  some,  an'  spotted  dogs  tied  under 
some;  an'  some  had  little  mules  behind — sheared 
mules,  with  bells  cut  on  their  tails." 

"Oh,  the  golden  chariot!  The  golden  chariot!" 
interrupted  Ben. 

"Yes ;  the  big  golden  chariot  with  eight  horses — 
spotted  horses  mostly,  but  poor,  an'  dusty,  an'  tired- 
lookin' — come  next.  They  had  it  covered  over  at 
night  to  keep  highwaymen  from  stealin'  the  gold  off, 
I  s'pose." 

"Jud  told  me  the  leaders  was  from  Araby.  I  was 
the  first  to  pull  grass  for  'em  when  they  stopp'd." 

"Pshaw,  that's  nothin'.  A  boy  can  pull  grass  for 
a  horse  any  day,"  said  Sam.  "I  guess  I  was  the 
first  to  touch  the  gold  on  the  chariot!  I  put  my 
hand  up  under  the  cover  an'  did  it.  Buck  Williams 
an'  Mark  Fisher  an'  them  kids  only  rode  on  the  iron 
ex.  I  held  on  to  the  Bengel  tiger's  tail  for  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  or  more,  as  long's  I  could  keep  up, 
an'  I  tuckered  all  the  other  kids,  too." 

"Why,  Sammy  Boggs!"  exclaimed  Arabella. 
"You  didn't  hold  on  to  a  tiger's  tail,  did  you?" 

"Yes,  I  did.  'Twan't  a  live  tiger,  tnough.  It  was 
a  gold  one — a  real  yellow  gold  one,  right  on  the  gold 


72  A    STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

chariot.  'Twas  sittin'  under  the  big  drum  what  was 
covered,  an'  its  tail  curved  'round,  an'  had  a  piece 
cut  through.  That's  where  I  held  on." 

"Oh,  I  see,  it  was  a  carved  tiger,"  suggested  Ara- 
bella. 

"Mebbe  it  was,  Miss  Bella;  but  if  't  was  carved, 
I  couldn't  see  it.  He  didn't  look  's  though  he'd  been 
carved.  Th'ere  was  no  blood  on  him.  I  wish'd  aft- 
erwards I'd  not  touched  the  yellow  thing.  It 
brought  me  bad  luck,  and " 

"The  whole  outfit,"  interrupted  Ben  eagerly, 
'  'cept  the  tent  wagons,  stopped  up  by  Harmon's 
Mill  to  dress  for  the  p'rade.  That's  when  I  got 
some  boys  to  pull  grass  with  me  for  them  gold  char- 
iot teams,  an'  when  I  fed  th'e  Araby  leaders " 

"An'  I  carried  plumes  for  the  bridles " 

"An'  I  carried  blankets  with  stars  on  'em  for  the 
actors'  horses." 

It  became  a  running  dialogue  then,  and  Arabella 
had  some  difficulty  in  giving  the  floor  to  one  boy  at 
a  time. 

"I  seen  Uncle  Dan  Rice's  trick  horse." 

"So'd  I.  He's  blind,  an'  my  pa  says  he's  the  best 
thing  in  the  show." 

"I  seen  Mrs.  Dan  Rice,  too.  She  rides  in  the  ring, 
I  guess." 

"Yes ;  she's  a  som'saulter." 

"  'Twas  funny  to  see  the  way  them  wagons  come 
down  from  Scottville.  You  could  always  tell  just 
where  they  was  at  by  the  cloud  of  dust  they'd  kick 
up." 


WHEN   DAN    RICE   CAME   TO   TOWN  73 

"They'd  all  string  out  along  an'  we'd  guess  what 
'twas  ^.hat  was  comin'  next,  an' " 

"Onct  I  guessed  'twas  a  elephant,"  said  Sammy, 
"an5  'twan't  nothin'  but  a  canvas- wagon." 

"I  guessed  the  gold  chariot  all  right,  though." 

"So'd  I,  too ;  but  other  fellows  didn't." 

"My,  but  those  drivers  was  cross  an'  ugly,  an' 
sweary.  They  blamed  the  roads,  an'  blamed  the 
Creat'r,  an'  even  blamed  Mr.  Rice  for  bringin'  'em 
into  such  a  'forsak'n  country.'  They  was  mean  to 
their  horses,  too,  an'  struck  'em  with  long  whips 
what  had  gold  bands  'round  'em  an'  fire-crackers  in 
the  ends  of  'em." 

"Sammy's  brother,  Jud,  said  they'd  come  a  long 
ways  in  the  night,  way  from  Mr.  Rice's  home  in 
Pennsylvany,  an'  that's  what  made  'fern  so  cross, 
'cause  they  hadn't  any  sleep.  I  saw  some  asleep, 
though,  on  top  of  the  wagons  and  chariots,  and  they 
was  all  curled  up  like  coons  on  a  limb." 

"Their  horses  was  fearful  dusty  an'  sweaty." 

"An'  so  were  the  actors,  too." 

"They  put  on  their  good  clothes  up  by  Harmon's, 
an'  that  made  'em  differ'nt,"  said  Ben.  "I  never 
seen  such  a  change  in  people.  They  looked  like 
kings  an'  queens.  'Twas  grand  to  see  'em.  The 
drivers  even  looked  fine.  They  took  red  coats  with 
braid  on  'em  out  of  secret  doors  in  the  gold  chariot, 
an'  red  caps,  an'  banners  of  all  nations,  an' " 

Wasn't  it  the  greatest  fun!  One  clown  with 
moons  on  his  face  an'  a  round  peeked  hat  on  his 
head  come  out  of  a  wagon  where  he'd  dress'd,  an'  he 
was  a  sight.  He  had  ruf'les  on  his  pants  an'  ruf'les 


74  A    STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

all  over  him  like  a  hen  we've  got.  He  got  into  a 
mule-cart  what  had  a  high  dasher,  an'  he  would  poke 
the  little  mule  with  a  stick,  an'  the  mule  would  kick 
as  though  he's  goin'  to  kick  the  stuffin'  out  of  that 
wagon  an'  that  clown,  an'  the  clown  would  yell 
when  he's  doin'  it :  'Whoa,  January !' — I  guess  that's 
the  mule's  name — and  we  kids  would  laugh  most 
to  split,  an' " 

"Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast;  don't  get  excited,"  said 
Arabella,  checking  the  fat  boy. 

"Let  me  tell  the  next ;  please  do,"  said  Sammy. 

"I'd  just  hired  to  lead  the  other  mule  when  Clare 
Dean  come  along  and  said:  'Sam  Boggs,  your 
father's  lookin'  for  you  an'  Jud.  I  seen  h'im  goin' 
toward  the  show  ground,  an'  he  was  askin'  th'  boys 
about  you.'  That  settled  it.  I  went  over  to  where 
Jud  was  holdin'  a  actor's  horses  an'  told  him,  an'  we 
hustled  home  'cross  lots,  thinkin'  we  would  get  in 
afore  pa  did,  an'  we  did  it." 

"And  what  then?"  asked  Arabella. 

"Then  ma  scolded  'cause  they'd  eaten,  an'  she 
brought  us  up  to  this  very  room  and  tied  us  with  a 
clothes-line  to  that  very  bed-post,  right  there." 

"Make  him  tell  all  of  it,  he  wanted  to  so  bad," 
said  Ben. 

"Yes,  Sammy,  tell  all  of  it,"  said  Arabella. 

"Then  she  shut  the  shutters  an'  said  we  couldn't 
see  the  p'rade  'cause  we'd  been  so  wicked  to  run 
away  'ithout  askin'  nobody  an'  'ithout  our  break- 
fast. I  notice  she  didn't  give  us  any.  She  knew  all 
right  'nough  the  p'rade  was  comin'  past  our  house. 
When  we  heard  the  band  comin'  'round  Hooker's 


WHEN   DAN    RICE    CAME   TO    TOWN  75 

corner,  Jud  untied  his  rope  with  his  teeth  and  then 
loosed  me.  We  raised  the  winder,  opened  the  shut- 
t'rs,  crawled  out  upon  the  roof  of  the  porch,  an'  sat 
there  as  happy  as  you  please,  'life-like  and  quite  nat- 
'ral,'  ma  says." 

"That  ain't  all,  Sam  Boggs,  an'  you  know  it. 
Tell  about  the  endin'  of  it." 

Ben  was  the  prompter  this  time. 

"Well,  the  tail  of  the  perces'on  was  goin'  by  an' 
the  funny  old  clown  was  last.  He  seen  me  an'  Jud 
an'  he  play'd  us  a  mighty  mean  trick.  He  pointed 
up  to  where  we  was  sittin',  and  yelled:  'See  them 
monkeys  up  there?'  The  kids  all  looked  up  and 
laughed,  an'  that  give  us  away.  Pa  an'  ma  was  out 
watchin'  the  p'rade,  an'  they  stepped  out  farther  and 
seen  us  just  as  we  was  gettin'  back  through  the  win- 
der. Then  pa  took  us  down  into  the  study  an' 
whipped  us.  He  acted  's  though  he  was  mad,  'cause 
he'd  not  done  it  in  the  first  place.  I  tell  you  I  wished 
then  I'd  left  that  yellow  tiger's  tail  alone.  Jud  got 
another  lickin'  'fore  bed  time.  He  run  away  an' 
went  to  the  circus.  I  wish  I  had.  If  it  weren't  for 
you  an'  ma,  an'  Ben,  I'd  join  out  with  a  circus  to- 
morrow, an'  I'd  stay  with  it  until  I  was  owner  of  it, 
too." 

"I  was  in  hopes  the  circus  fever  had  left  you," 
said  Arabella,  with  gentleness.  "I  want  both  you 
boys  to  remain  here  with  me.  You  can  help  me,  I  am 
sure,  in  many  ways,  and  possibly  we  can  be  of  help 
and  comfort  to  each  other." 

"I'll  stay  anyway  until  you've  read  Uncle  Tom  to 
us,"  said  Sam. 


76  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

"Don't  forget  to  bring  Uncle  Tom  from  the 
farm,"  said  Ben,  as  he  saw  his  time  was  up  and  bade 
them  good-night.  "Don't  forget  to  tell  me  when 
it's  here,"  was  his  final  word  of  caution  to  Sam  as  he 
passed  out  the  lower  hall  door. 


CHAPTER  X 

ROGER  WILLIAMS' S  BIRTHDAY 

If  folks  sprung  from  monkeys,  as  the  Darwin  book  shews, 
then  wimmin  sprung  a  durned  sight  farther'n  men  did,  for 
they're  a  million  times  more  human. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  Free  Methodists  or  something  else  had  surely 
captured  Bill  Taylor.  A  mighty  change  had  been 
wrought  in  him.  Thursday  morning,  bright  and 
early,  he  appeared  at  the  kitchen  door  of  the  parson- 
age and  asked  for  Miss  Somers.  Mrs.  Boggs  was 
so  surprised  it  took  her  a  minute  to  catch  her  breath. 
When  she  caught  it,  she  said : 

"Miss  Somers  has  not  come  down  yet ;  it  is  nearly 
our  breakfast  time,  and  I  expect  her  any  moment. 
Will  you  wait,  or  shall  I  call  her?" 

"I  s'pose  you'll  do  as  well  as  her,"  replied  Tay- 
lor. "I  come  'cause  she  wrote  me  to.  I  have  the 
weddin'  fee  an'  money  for  the  shirt  you  give  me. 
She  dunned  me  fur  'em,  but  I  s'pose  I  kin  pay  you 
just  the  same.  Here's  three  dollars — two  fur  the 
wood  what  I  didn't  fetch  an'  one  fur  the  shirt.  I'm 
sorry  you've  waited  fur  'em  so  long." 

Mrs.  Boggs  was  never  quite  so  surprised  irt  all 
her  life.  She  had  to  look  her  caller  squarely  in  the 
face  to  see  if  he  really  was  Bill  Taylor.  She  took  .the 


78  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

money  from  his  hand  and  told  him  she  was  sure  it 
would  "come  acceptable,"  when  he  said : 

"If  I  done  a  wrong-  to  Sammy,  I  want  to  'polo- 
gize.  I  guess  I  teased  him  purty  hard  an'  drew  on 
his  fire.  I'll  not  do  so  ag'in,  an'  you  can  say  as 
much  to  the  lady.  Tell  the  Doctor  when  he  has  any 
tinkerin'  to  do,  I'd  like  to  do  it  fur  him." 

A  few  minutes  later  Mrs.  Boggs  had  opportunity 
to  tell  Arabella  about  her  caller,  the  great  change 
that  had  come  over  him,  of  his  request  regarding 
Sammy,  and  to  hand  her  the  money. 

"If  it  had  been  an  angel,  I  would  not  have  been 
more  surprised,"  said  she.  "I  might  have  guessed 
you'd  written,  but  'it  never  occurred  to  me.  You 
have  earned  the  fee,  as  I  promised,  and  I  insist  upon 
your  taking  it." 

Arabella  refused  the  money,  but  after  considera- 
ble parley  a  compromise  was  effected,  whereby  she 
was  permitted  to  pay  for  Roger's  birthday  present, 
the  new  chair,  and  to  call  it  her  gift. 

The  family  gathered  at  the  breakfast  table,  and 
Doctor  Boggs  asked  a  blessing  for  the  food  and  for 
"Divine  grace  sufficient  for  the  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities of  the  day  as  they  should  appear."  Mrs. 
Boggs  then  brought  the  new  bright-red  high-chair 
from  the  bed-room,  and  every  one  looked  in  the  di- 
rection of  Roger  Williams  to  note  how  he  would 
accept  his  first  birthday  gift.  It  was  all  a  puzzle  to 
him,  and  he  appeared  more  frightened  than  pleased. 
His  mother  lifted  him  into  it,  drew  the  shelf  around 
in  front  of  him,  locked  it,  and  placed  baby's  break- 
fast upon  it.  Baby  at  once  abdicated  the  throne. 


ROGER    WILLIAMS'S    BIRTHDAY  79 

He  kicked  and  squirmed,  and  worked  himself  under 
the  shelf  and  down  to  the  floor.  He  fell  in  a  heap, 
bumped  his  head,  stiffened  out  straight,  and  set  up 
a  yell. 

"What  shall  we  do  next?"  said  Mrs.  Boggs,  look- 
ing in  the  direction  of  Arabella. 

"Just  let  me  take  him  once,"  said  Doctor  Boggs, 
pushing  up  his  cuffs  and  shoving  back  his  chair, 
seemingly  eager  to  tackle  the  first  responsibility  call- 
ing for  Divine  grace. 

"I've  given  this  matter  into  the  hands  of  Miss 
Somers,"  said  the  mother.  "She  thinks  she  can  man- 
age it." 

"Miss  Somers  can  manage  her  children  when  she 
gets  them,"  was  the  curt  response.  "I  guess  we're 
capable  of  managing  our  own.  I  think  I  can  handle 
a  little  matter  like  this  without  any  one's  help.  I've 
done  it  several  times  before." 

Mrs.  Boggs  remonstrated,  and  Arabella  bit  her 
lips  and  remained  silent. 

The  Doctor  snatched  Roger  Williams  from  the 
floor  and  placed  him  in  the  new  chair  as  if  he  were 
planting  him  for  eternity.  He  jerked  him  back  and 
told  him  to  sit  there  and  eat  his  breakfast.  The 
child  cried  harder  than  ever,  kicked  harder  than 
ever,  squirmed  like  an  eel,  and  worked  himself  down 
and  out  again. 

Divine  grace  here  departed  from  the  Doctor.  He 
grabbed  the  boy  and  carried  him,  about  as  a  puppy 
carries  a  rag  doll,  into  the  bed-room,  and  spanked 
him  until  he  gasped  for  breath,  and  the  mother  fran- 
tically rushed  in  to  save  his  life. 


80  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Arabella  knew  there  was  to  be  a  scene  that  only 
members  of  a  family  should  witness,  if  it  was  to  be 
witnessed  at  all,  and  she  hastily  went  to  her  room. 

Doctor  Boggs  won  out  in  the  first  round,  and  still 
held  possession  of  his  offspring.  He  came  with  the 
exhausted  boy  from  the  bed-room  and  planted  him 
in  the  chair,  firmer  than  before,  if  that  were  possible. 
Baby  refused  to  take  root.  Then  the  Doctor  removed 
his  coat,  for  he  was  all  perspiration,  and  he  grabbed 
the  youngster  by  his  arms  and  started  for  the  bed- 
room. He  did  not  get  far.  Mrs.  Boggs  intercepted 
him  and  pulled  and  tugged  until  she  was  in  posses- 
sion of  what  was  one-half  hers.  Then  she  took  the 
high-chair  and  slammed  it  against  the  wall,  sat 
down  to  the  table,  cuddled  and  soothed  the  sobbing 
Roger  and  gave  him  his  food.  She  looked  daggers 
at  the  Doctor  while  doing  this,  and  the  Doctor  look- 
ed as  sheepish  and  meek  as  though  he  had  been 
caught  stealing  melons. 

Sammy  was  sent  by  his  mother  to  recall  Arabella, 
and,  after  some  delay,  she  returned  and  took  her 
place  at  the  table. 

"I  want  you  to  know  I'm  perfectly  resigned,"  said 
th'e  Doctor.  "I  yield  entirely  to  Mrs.  Boggs  and  to 
you." 

"It's  easy  enough  to  yield  when  you  have  to,"  re- 
sponded Mrs.  Boggs.  "I'm  going  to  exercise  some 
authority  in  this  house,  and  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand it  here  and  now.  I  told  Miss  Somers  she 
could  have  the  case  and  she  SHALL  have  it,  and 
without  further  hindrance,  too." 

This  speech  pleased  Arabella  immensely.     It  was 


ROGER    WILLIAMS' S    BIRTHDAY  8 1 

the  first  time  Mrs.  Boggs  had  squarely  put  her  foot 
down,  and  she  believed  her  plain  talk  had  done  some 
good ;  that  the  mother  was  going  to  interest  herself 
somewhat  in  the  children's  punishments  thereafter. 

"Very  well,"  said  she,  "I  will  undertake  the  task, 
but  will  ask  the  co-operation  of  both  parents.  At 
present  we  will  do  nothing.  I  request  that  no  mem- 
ber of  the  family  shall  feed  Roger  between  meals. 
It's  right  he  should  now  have  his  breakfast,  the  same 
as  usual." 

"Going  to  starve  him  to  it,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
Doctor. 

"I  shall  do  nothing  to  injure  the  child,  you  may 
be  sure,"  was  the  response. 

The  process  employed  by  Arabella  was  easy,  sim- 
ple, natural,  rational,  humane,  and  successful.  At 
dinner  she  drew  up  the  high-chair,  fixed  baby  in  it, 
and  placed  his  dinner  upon  the  shelf  before  him, 
trying  hard  to  direct  his  attention  to  other  things. 
Baby  possessed  an  excellent  memory,  and  he  at  once 
kicked,  and  wriggled,  and  squirmed.  Arabella 
caught  him  before  he  reached  the  floor,  and  placed 
him  on  his  feet.  Doctor  Boggs  smiled  a  sort  of  tri- 
umphant I-told-you-so  smile,  and  Mrs.  Boggs  look- 
ed incredulous  and  disappointed.  Roger  tugged  at 
his  mother  and  begged  her  to  take  him,  but  Ara- 
bella shook  her  head  and  the  mother  remained  firm, 
and  refrained  from  feeding  her  loved  one.  The 
vocal  accompaniment  during  the  meal  was  not  at  all 
pleasant,  and  Mrs.  Boggs  would  have  yielded  sev- 
eral times  had  she  not  foreseen  her  husband's  tri- 


82  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

umph,  and  the  inevitable  launching  of  her  last-born 
upon  an  endless  sea  of  punishment. 

Arabella  devoted  the  entire  day  to  Roger.  She 
was  celebrating  a  memorable  birthday  with  him. 
At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternon  the  boy  indicated, 
hunger  and  called  for  food.  Arabella  drew  up  the 
high-chair  as  before,  lifted  baby  to  his  seat,  and 
placed  a  tempting  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  upon  the 
chair-shelf.  She  sprinkled  in  a  bit  of  sugar  as  a 
coaxer.  Baby's  resentment  was  stronger  than  his 
appetite,  and  he  kicked,  and  squirmed,  and  wriggled 
again,  and  refused  to  eat.  Arabella  gently  took  him 
down,  and  removed  the  bread  and  milk,  placing  it, 
however,  where  he  could  plainly  see  it.  Two  hours 
later  little  Roger  reached  his  hands  in  the  direction 
of  the  bowl  and  begged  for  it.  The  high-chair  was 
brought  and  placed  at  the  table,  baby  was  lifted  ten- 
derly to  the  seat,  and  the  bread  and  milk  was  again 
offered.  The  boy  sat  quietly  for  a  moment,  survey- 
ed his  surroundings,  looked  the  chair  over,  rolled  his 
great  eyes  up  at  Arabella,  took  up  the  spoon,  gave  a 
remarkable  grunt  of  satisfaction,  smiled  and  waded 
in.  The  bread  and  milk  disappeared  as  rapidly  as 
Roger  could  move  his  chubby  little  right  arm  back 
and  forth,  and  there  was  none  left  that  a  cat  could 
get  when  he  had  finished. 

The  happiest  one  at  the  supper  table  that  night  was 
"Roger,  Our  King,"  wh'o  never  thereafter  refused 
to  occupy  his  birthday  gift. 

Arabella  had  given  her  first  lesson  in  child-train- 
ing and  it  proved  effective.  Sammy  told  Ben  about  it 
and  Jud  told  Clare  Dean;  Deaney  told  his  mother, 


ROGER    WILLIAMS'S    BIRTHDAY  83 

Mrs.  Dean  told  Widow  Townsend,  and  that  was  as 
good  as  publishing  it  in  a  newspaper.  Widow 
Townsend  told  everybody,  and  when  it  reached  Bill 
Taylor  he  took  a  week  off  to  tell  everybody  who'd 
already  been  told.  Arabella  became  a  "seven-days 
wonder,"  and  children  were  pledged  for  her  school 
nearly  every  day. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  VISIT  TO  RED  JACKET'S  ROOST 

Little  things  are  God's  reminders.  I've  discovered  that  by 
observing  them  we  are  always  directed  to  more  important, 
more  useful  things. — Arabella  Somers. 

The  following  Saturday  morning  Mrs.  Howard 
invited  Arabella  to  drive  with  her  into  the  country. 
They  went  by  Deacon  Somers's,  where  a  brief  call 
was  made  and  Arabella  secured  the  wonderful  book, 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  She  decided  to  keep  its  pos- 
session a  secret  and  as  a  surprise  for  the  boys. 

The  Boggs  family  had  partaken  of  dinner  on  the 
Sabbath,  when  Arabella  asked  Sammy  if  he  would 
like  to  go  with  her  for  a  walk  in  the  woods,  and  if 
he  thought  Ben  would  care  to  go.  She  also  extend- 
ed the  invitation  to  Adoniram,  but  he  said  he  was 
too  tired  to  walk  so  far  and  that  he  "was  going  up 
to  Milt  Babcock's  to  swing  in  a  hammock  and  read." 

A  half  hour  later  a  happy  trio  was  sauntering 
across  the  fields  in  the  direction  of  Haldane's  grove. 
Arabella  carried  a  small  basket  for  ferns,  and  there 
was  a  red  shawl  folded  in  it.  Sam  and  Ben  by  turns 
asked  to  carry  it,  but  the  young  woman  refused  the 
offer  each  time. 


THE   VISIT    TO    RED    JACKETS    ROOST  85 

"We  know  where  there  are  dandy  ferns,  don't  we, 
Ben?"  said  Sammy,  with  enthusiasm. 

"But  that's  too  far  for  Miss  Somers  to  go, 
though." 

"How  far  is  it  ?"  asked  Arabella. 

"It  isn't  so  very  far,  only  the  trail's  narrer  an' 
you  have  to  go  Injun  file  and  move  branches  some," 
said  Sammy. 

"It's  a  secret  trail  made  by  me  an'  Sam,"  said 
Benny,  "an'  it  goes  to  Red  Jacket's  Roost,  what  we 
discover'd." 

"Finest  ferns  down  there  I  ever  seen,"  said  Sam. 

"Best  in  the  whole  world!"  exclaimed  his  chum 
enthusiastically. 

"I  would  dearly  love  to  go  there,"  said  Arabella. 
"I'm  sure  I  have  never  been  to  Red  Jacket's  Roost." 

"Oh,  no ;  you've  never  been  there.  No  one's  ever 
been  there  but  me  an'  Ben." 

Arabella  gave  additional  assurances  that  she 
would  enjoy  going  by  trail  to  their  secret  retreat, 
and  a  zest  and  enthusiasm  was  straightway  given 
the  outing  that  was  decidedly  noticeable. 

The  world  never  seemed  quite  so  grand  and  beau- 
tiful to  the  boys.  It  was,  indeed,  an  ideal  Sabbath 
day.  All  God's  greenery  had  but  recently  been 
washed  and  freshened  with  rain,  the  skies  were 
clearing  and  were  full  of  glorious  clouds,  the  air  was 
sweet  and  invigorating,  and  the  happy  trio  constant- 
ly saw  something  new  to  rejoice  over  and  to  praise. 
The  boys  were  fairly  bubbling  over  with  happiness, 
gave  knowing  winks,  made  mysterious  signs,  and 
spoke  curious  words  to  each  other  as  they  antici- 


86  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

pated  the  surprise  in  store  for  their  companion. 
They  led  the  way  through  the  grove,  took  rails  from 
the  fence  that  Arabella  might  the  easier  pass,  piloted 
her  around  a  fallen  tree  that  served  as  a  "blind"  to 
the  trail's  entrance,  and  the  three  started  single-file 
for  the  "Roost."  Arabella  was  obliged  to  stoop  low 
at  times  and  to  brush  aside  the  branches  that  hung 
in  the  way,  and  her  guides  would  sometimes  hold 
these  back  until  she  had  passed.  She  made  light  of 
every  difficulty,  and  climbed  over  logs  and  around 
projecting  boulders  without  a  murmur.  The  boys 
pointed  out  the  landmarks  and  removed  the  fallen 
brush  from  the  trail.  They  grew  the  more  enthu- 
siastic as  they  neared  the  favorite  retreat,  talked 
louder,  and  fairly  shouted  their  delight  as  they  re- 
peatedly announced  how  much  farther  it  was.  They 
went  by  the  winding  path  to  the  top  of  a  knoll,  and  as 
they  reached  the  summit,  Sam  cried : 

"There  she  is,  Miss  Bella;  ain't  she  a  daisy?" 
"Miss  Bella"  stood  enraptured  as  she  took  in  the 
charming  sylvan  scene.  It  seemed  to  her  she  had 
never  before  looked  upon  anything  half  so  beautiful. 
Sam  and  Ben  were  prepared  for  all  the  big  adjec- 
tives she  used  in  expressing  her  delight.  The  joy 
was  genuine,  and  no  adjectives  were  too  strong  to 
portray  it. 

The  glen  made  a  perfect  amphitheater  in  the  for- 
est. It  was  shaded  with  trees  of  many  varieties,  the 
white-barked  birches  standing  here  and  there  in 
pairs  or  bunches  like  candles  in  a  great  cathedral. 
There  was  the  clear  stream  winding  and  folding 
through  banks  of  green;  great  rocks  of  brown,  and 


THE   VISIT    TO    RED    JACKETS    ROOST  87 

gray,  and  blue  lifted  their  uneven  shapes  on  either 
hand.  In  places  the  merry  little  stream  crowded  be- 
tween these,  and  foamed  and  fretted  as  it  leaped  and 
fell  to  lower  levels,  and  to  other  ledges  of  rock  where 
falls  were  made  and  made  again.  But  why  attempt 
to  describe  a  place  like  this  ? 

Here  Sam  and  Ben  had  often  come  on  Saturdays 
and  holidays,  and  on  other  days  when  their  teacher 
received  no  responses  in  speaking  their  names  at 
roll-call.  Here  they  had  cast  their  tiny  hooks  in  the 
deeper  holes  where  the  waters  swirled  and  eddied; 
had  sung  witli  the  ripples  as  they  kissed  the  pebbles, 
had  mocked  the  birds  of  many  hue  as  they  flew 
down  to  spatter  in  shallow  basins  or  take  shower- 
baths  under  the  spray  the  rocks  dashed  upward. 
Here  they  had  waded  through  the  deeper  places  un- 
til their  upturned  trousers  were  wet,  had  built  dams 
and  water  wheels,  sailed  bits  of  wood  and  bark,  and 
their  own  chip  hats — to  them  so  many  boats  of 
mighty  sail  freighted  with  the  merchandise  of  a 
world.  Oh,  those  golden  hours  of  happy  traffic! 
Why  dwell  on  them  ? 

The  earth  seemed  pure,  and  chaste,  and  beautiful. 
There  was  no  place  there  for  strife,  or  sin,  or  world- 
ly gain. 

The  boys  led  Arabella  down  the  steep  hillside  and 
into  the  glen,  pointing  out  the  named  wonders  as 
they  went.  They  came  to  Red  Jacket's  Roost.  It  was 
a  great  rock  that  stood  in  a  clump  of  slender  trees 
and  that  was  split  apart  by  a  giant  beech,  whose 
spreading  branches  went  over  and  beyond  it  like  a 
huge  umbrella.  Its  sides  were  steep,  but  there  were 


88  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

natural  steps  leading  to  its  summit,  and  the  boys 
gave  each  a  hand  as  their  companion  climbed  and 
reached  it.  The  top  of  the  rock  was  flat  and  smooth, 
and  bore  evidences  of  recent  occupation.  A  space 
near  the  tree's  trunk  was  brushed  clean,  and  there 
were  short  ends  of  cigarettes  and  burnt  matches 
about.  Ben  spied  a  penny  near  the  tree  and  hailed 
his  find  as  a  "sign  of  good  luck." 

"Remember  the  'greement !"  exclaimed  Sam. 

"What  is  your  agreement?"  asked  Arabella  as 
she  spread  out  the  shawl  and  sat  down  by  the  beech. 

"What  one  finds  is  twos ;  we  go  ha'vers." 

"I  suppose  you  mean  that  whatever  one  of  you 
finds  when  the  other  is  present  is  the  property  of 
both?" 

"Yessum,  that's  it" 

"The  one  what  finds,  carries,"  said  Ben,  slipping 
the  penny  into  his  trousers'  pocket. 

"The  one  who  finds  something  that  cannot  be  di- 
vided retains  possession,  is  that  it?" 

"Yep ;  then  when  we  find  somethin'  else  we  square 
up,  see?" 

"With  money  it's  different,  though,"  said  Sam. 
"We  can  spend  that  for  somethin'  we  can  divvy  up." 

To  the  boys  the  pleasure  of  the  find  was  clouded 
by  the  knowledge  that  some  one"  had  discovered  their 
retreat.  It  seemed  personal  property  to  them  and 
sacred  to  their  own  occupancy  and  use.  Arabella 
became  reflective,  too,  and  was  inwardly  anxious  to 
know  who  had  profaned  the  boys'  retreat.  She  knew 
the  occupancy  had  been  recent,  and  she  judged  the 
intruders  were  young  men  who  had  been  "matching 


THE  VISIT   TO   RED   JACKETS   ROOST  89 

pennies,"  or  possibly  "pitching  pennies,"  to  see  who 
could  come  nearest  to  some  mark. 

She  asked  the  boys  to  hand  her  the  basket,  and 
they  nearly  fell  over  each  other  in  their  mad  rush 
for  it.  They  saw  it  contained  a  book.  In  taking 
it  out  Arabella  turned  the  back  toward  them,  and 
they  read  the  title,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  or,  Life 
Among  the  Lowly."  They  jumped  for  joy,  and 
spatted  their  hands  upon  their  legs  and  above  their 
heads  as  they  did  so.  They  knew  they  never' d  had 
such  a  splendid  surprise  in  all  their  lives. 

For  two  hours  the  boys  were  led  into  the  delights 
of  Uncle  Tom,  the  reader  stopping  to  show  them 
the  pictures  as  the  story  developed.  They  fairly 
crowded  Arabella  between  them  in  their  eagerness 
and  delight.  Uncle  Tom  was  the  greatest  character 
they  had  ever  heard  about,  and  the  story  was  the 
most  entertaining  and  thrilling.  Arabella  purposely 
skipped  some  of  the  descriptive  parts,  but  used  great 
care  to  bring  out  the  characters  clearly  and  distinct- 
ly. She  saw  an  occasional  yawn  now,  and  knew 
from  Ben's  far-away  look  that  he  was  not  closely 
following  the  context.  He  was,  instead,  building 
up  a  play,  choosing  his  actors,  planning  stage-set- 
tings, and  supervising  the  tableaux,  so  she  closed  the 
book  and  said  they  would  rest  awhile. 

The  boys  took  the  basket  and  went  for  the  "dandy 
ferns"  they  had  promised.  They  crossed  the  brook 
on  stones  above  the  little  cataract  and  walked  along 
the  opposite  bank  down  where  the  ravine  broadened 
out,  and  out  of  sight. 

A  gray  squirrel  seemed  anxious  to  make  Ara- 


9°  A    STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

bella's  acquaintance,  now  that  she  was  alone.  He 
approached  her  somewhat  boldly  at  first,  arching 
his  handsome  tail  over  his  back  and  chattering  his 
little  sermon.  Then  he  hesitated  and  seemed  uncer- 
tain as  to  how  he  would  be  received,  but  kept  com- 
ing closer  and  closer,  stopping  frequently  to  make 
observations.  He  climbed  part  way  up  the  rock,  cir- 
cled round  it  once,  and  scampered  away  into  the 
crevice  made  by  the  growing  tree  and  that  was  full 
of  leaves.  Arabella  wondered  what  his  purpose 
was.  She  took  a  branch  to  see  if  she  might  find  out. 
She  had  not  stirred  the  leaves  long  or  deeply  before 
she  uncovered  a  square  cigar  box.  By  lying  flat 
upon  the  rock  and  stretching  an  arm  as  far  as  she 
could  she  became  possessor  of  the  newest  discovery. 
The  box  contained  a  curious  collection.  There  was 
a  pack  of  playing  cards,  she  had  seen  similar  in  a 
stationer's  store  in  Boston;  a  hundred  or  more 
round,  thin  discs,  about  the  size  of  a  half-dollar — 
red,  and  white,  and  blue;  and  there  was  a  pouch 
with  fine  tobacco  in  it.  The  pouch  seemed  too 
heavy  for  tobacco  alone,  and  Arabella  was  sure  of 
it.  She  felt  inside  and  uncovered  a  handful  of  coin 
— pennies  mostly,  but  some  dimes  and  one  quarter. 
She  knew  she  had  no  right  to  the  money  and  did  not 
take  it.  There  was  a  picture  of  Henry  Clay  upon 
the  inside  cover  of  the  box,  and  a  list  of  curious  arti- 
cles was  written  at  one  side  of  it.  As  nearly  as  Ara- 
bella could  remember  they  were  something  like 
"flushes,"  "full  houses,"  "straights,"  and  "pairs." 
It  was  all  Greek  to  her.  She  knew  not  what  to  make 
of  it,  but  was  determined  she  should  know  later  on. 


THE   VISIT   TO    RED   JACKET  S   ROOST  91 

She  took  one  of  the  blue  discs  and  placed  it  in  her 
hand-bag ;  then  she  hid  the  box  as  nearly  as  possible 
where  she  had  found  it,  raking  the  leaves  back  care- 
fully over  it.  She  decided  to  say  nothing  to  the  boys 
of  her  discovery. 

In  a  short  time  the  boys  came  back,  singing  and 
whistling.  They  brought  a  basket  of  beautiful  ferns 
and  each  had  an  armful  besides.  After  laying  the 
treasures  at  Arabella's  feet,  Sammy  said: 

"We  met  Jud  an'  his  chums  down  the*  creek. 
There  was  Deaney,  Milt  Babcock,  Joe  Brewer  an' 
Jud.  They  was  sittin'  on  a  log  an'  all  was  smokin'. 
Jud  was  smokin'  a  briar-wood,  so  Ben  says — his  pa 
smokes  that  kind;  an'  the  others  was  smokin'  them 
paper  cigars.  They  all  threw  away  their  smokes 
when  they  seen  us,  'cept  Jud.  He  rapped  his'n  on 
the  log  an'  put  it  in  a  box  he  had  in  his  pocket." 

"Then  the  boys  saw  you,  did  they?"  asked  Ara- 
bella. 

"Oh,  yes ;  they  spoke  to  us,"  said  Ben.  "Jud  said : 
'Where's  your  girl  ?'  Sammy  told  him  you  was  sit- 
tin' on  the  rock  by  the  falls.  'Coin'  to  stay  all  day, 
I  suppose,'  said  he.  I  told  him  you  was  readin' 
'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,'  He  said:  Tt's  pretty  long, 
isn't  it  ?'  I  said,  'Yes ;  but  it's  a  bully  story,  though ; 
you  all  ought  to  hear  it.'  Then  Milt  Babcock  said, 
in  a  sort  of  mean  way,  'I  s'pose  you're  goin'  to  stay 
all  day  an'  read  it  at  one  sittin'  ?'  Sam  told  him  he 
guessed  we'd  stay  an'  read  until  dark.  Then  one  of 
'em  said :  'I  guess  it's  all  up  with  us.'  I  don't  know 
which  one  it  was." 

"That  was  Deaney  what  said  it,"  said  Sam.     "I 


92  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

can't  bear  him,  if  he  is  the  swellest  feller  in  this 
town.  He  has  more  nice  togs  than  any  other  kid, 
but  he  doesn't  work  at  all  an'  his  folks  are  poor,  like 
our'n.  I  don't  see  where  he  gets  'em.  I  spoke  to 
Jud  about  Deaney's  new  patent-leathers  t'other  night 
an'  he  said  he  knew  'bout  'em ;  he  guess'd  he  paid  for 
'em.  I  ast  how  he  paid  for  'em,  an'  he  said  'on  a 
bet.'  I  ast  him  what  he  bet  on,  an'  he  said  on  his 
hand.  'How'd  you  bet  on  your  hand?'  I  ast,  an' 
he  said :  'I  bet  my  hand  was  better'n  his'n.'  'How 
better?'  I  ast.  He  told  me  I  was  altogedder  too 
'quisitive;  but  I  ast  him  if  he  bet  his  hand  would 
hold  more  or  was  stronger,  which,  an'  he  said : 
'Both;  that  my  hand  was  stronger  an'  that  I  held 
more.'  'How  much  did  you  hold  an'  how  much  did 
Deaney  hold  ?'  I  ast.  'I  held  three  trays  an'  he  held 
three  queens,'  said  Jud.  'Real  live  queens  ?'  I  ast. 
'Yep ;  live  'nough  to  take  my  money,'  said  he.  'Did 
the  queens  take  your  money?'  I  ast  him.  'Deaney 
did  with  'em,'  said  he.  'How  much  did  the  trays 
weigh?'  I  ast.  'They  weren't  heavy  'nough  to 
beat  three  queens,'  he  said.  I  told  Jud  I  didn't  see 
through  it,  it  was  all  blank  to  me;  an'  he  said  he 
might's  well  have  held  blanks  himself.  What  did 
he  mean  by  it,  Miss  Bella?  Do  you  s'pose  he  really 
paid  for  Deaney's  patent-leathers  ?" 

Arabella  was  forced  to  admit  she  could  not 
fathom  it  at  all,  although  she  had  some  suspicions 
that  she  did  not  care  to  divulge.  During  their  jour- 
ney homeward  she  was  quiet  and  thoughtful.  She 
recalled  that  Earl  Fairbanks,  the  sewing-machine 
agent,  who  led  the  singing  in  the  Sabbath  school, 


THE   VISIT   TO   RED   JACKET  S   ROOST  93 

was  a  reformed  gambler — at  least  he  always  said  he 
was,  and  seemed  to  love  to  tell  of  it  in  the  prayer- 
meetings  and  in  the  revival  meetings  whenever  he 
related  his  experience.  Arabella  had  sometimes  fear- 
ed the  frequent  repetition  of  the  story  with  all  its 
graphic  details  might  have  a  bad  effect  upon  the 
younger  boys  who  heard  it — it  might  create  a  long- 
ing in  them  for  a  similar  experience  to  brag  about. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  she  decided  she  would  go  to  Fair- 
banks for  information. 

At  the  close  of  the  evening  service  she  asked  Fair- 
banks if  she  might  speak  with  him,  and  he  walked 
home  with  her  to  give  her  the  opportunity.  It  was 
the  forerunner  of  many  similar  walks.  This  time 
they  talked  of  cards,  and  Fairbanks  told  her  the  blue 
disc  was  a  "poker  chip,"  and  explained  to  her  the 
meaning  of  the  memorandum  written  around  thfe 
head  of  Henry  Clay,  and  went  into  the  details  of  the 
game  of  draw  poker.  Arabella  was  convinced  Fair- 
banks knew  what  he  was  talking  about.  He  seemed 
curious  to  know  why  she  desired  the  information, 
but  was  not  satisfied  on  this  point. 

Arabella  was  now  assured  Jud  and  his  compan- 
ions had  been  gambling  at  Red  Jacket's  Roost,  and 
on  the  Lord's  Day ;  that  she  and  the  boys  had  inter- 
rupted their  game,  and  that  the  money  in  the  pouch 
was  undoubtedly  one  of  those  "jack  pots"  that  Fair- 
banks told  her  about.  The  enlightenment  grieved 
her  beyond  measure.  It  had  revealed  Jud  as  both  a 
liar  and  a  gambler.  He  had  not  gone  to  Babcock's 
"to  swing  in  a  hammock  and  read" — she  knew  that 
from  the  boys  before  leaving  the  Roost — but  had 


94  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

gone  directly  to  the  glen  instead,  to  play  cards  for 
money.  She  kept  awake  long  that  night  wondering 
what  she  should  or  could  do,  or  what  she  ought  to 
do.  A  new  duty  confronted  her,  a  wider  missionary 
field  than  she  had  dreamed  of.  She  asked  for  Divine 
grace,  wisdom,  and  strength  to  meet  every  duty  with 
fortitude,  judgment,  and  intelligence. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  ROBBER  AT   WORK 

A  fellow  can't  make  an  artistic  lie,  one  that  will  withstand 
time  and  history,  on  a  moment's  notice.  If  you  haven't  time 
in  which  to  plan  a  good  one  you  better  tell  the  truth. — Sam 
Boggs,  Jr. 

Hooker's  money-drawer  was  being  systematically 
robbed,  or  some  one  was  stealing  small  sums  with 
seeming  regularity  before  they  reached  the  till.  It 
was  a  large  double  store,  with  an  archway  connect- 
ing where  the  desk  stood  that  contained  the  money- 
drawer,  and  held  the  books  and  writing  materials. 
General  merchandise  was  sold  on  small  margins,  at 
one  price,  and  for  cash  only.  The  system  of  keep- 
ing accounts  was  primitive  and  simple,  and  the  cash 
basis  served  to  keep  it  so.  Each  of  the  five  clerks 
had  access  to  the  money-drawer,  made  his  own 
change,  and  with  each  sale  stuck  a  slip  containing 
his  name,  the  goods  sold,  and  the  amount  of  cash  re- 
ceived, on  a  spindle  at  the  desk.  Hooker  footed  up 
the  slips  and  counted  the  cash  at  the  close  of  each 
day's  business.  Repeatedly  of  late,  and  much  to  his 
chagrin  and  annoyance,  he  found  the  figures  would 
not  agree.  Surely  some  one  was  grossly  careless, 
or  else  a  thief  had  made  his  entrance  to  the  fold. 

Old  Nat  Frisbie  had  hooked  side-pork  from  the 


96  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

brine,  measured  molasses,  potatoes,  oil  and  calico; 
weighed  sugar,  quinine  and  babies,  and  been  sort  of 
confidential  man  and  factotum  in  that  store  for  up- 
wards of  thirty  years.  The  community  knew  his 
weights  and  measurements  were  just  and  no  one 
could  suspect  him. 

John  Howard  was  Frisbie's  understudy.  He  had 
been  such  for  fifteen  years,  and  was  now  entrusted 
with  most  of  the  buying.  He  was  clerk  of  the  Bap- 
tist church,  always  embraced  every  means  of  grace, 
and  no  one  could  reasonably  suspect  him. 

Susan  Fair,  sedate  and  comely,  was  as  particular, 
systematic,  and  trustworthy  an  old  maid  as  ever 
lived.  She  had  presided  over  the  dress-goods  and 
ladies'  goods  departments  for  a  fifth  of  a  century, 
was  authority  on  cottons,  linens,  hosiery  and  no- 
tions, and  no  breath  of  suspicion  for  any  cause  what- 
soever ever  blew  in  her  direction. 

Moreover,  the  discrepancies  between  sales  slips 
and  cash  on  hand  were  of  recent  occurrence,  and 
Mr.  Hooker  did  not,  for  one  moment,  charge  them 
to  one  of  these  trusties,  who  had  so  faithfully  help- 
ed him  in  the  building  of  a  snug  fortune. 

Albert  Bradley,  Adoniram  Boggs,  and  Jason 
Meeker  constituted  the  remainder  of  the  force. 
Meeker  followed  Boggs  upon  the  wagon  and  was 
not  supposed  to  handle  any  cash.  Bradley  had  been 
sick  and  absent  from  the  store  for  some  time,  and 
during  a  period  of  disagreement  between  the  foot- 
ings. Hooker,  therefore,  narrowed  his  investiga- 
tions down  to  Boggs  and  Meeker.  He  considered 
himself  a  shrewd  man  and  decided  to  hold  his  own 


A    ROBBER    AT    WORK  97 

counsel  while  he  contrived  plans  for  catching  the 
thief.  He  watched  the  suspects  closely,  studied  their 
habits,  and  looked  for  evidence  of  guilt.  Judd  Boggs 
was  handing  over  to  his  mother  four  of  the  five  dol- 
lars he  received  weekly,  while  Jase  Meeker  was  giv- 
ing every  dollar  he  earned  to  his  father.  This  was 
the  only  fact  the  merchant  discovered  why  the  last- 
named  might  steal.  He  was  a  plain  boy  of  plain 
habits  and  plainer  clothes.  Jud  was  fond  of  dress, 
but,  aside  from  flashy  ties,  flaming-red  mostly,  and 
a  double-breasted,  large-checkered  waistcoat  he  had 
specially  ordered  from  Rochester,  and  that  was  loud 
enough  to  wake  the  echoes,  Hooker  could  find  noth- 
ing that  could  not  reasonably  be  covered  by  his  per- 
sonal allowance. 

Meeker  was  given  a  week's  vacation  and  Jud  was 
placed  upon  the  wagon.  Hooker  assured  Jud  he 
was  looking  thin  and  sallow  and  that  a  week  outside 
would  do  him  good.  That  week  the  sales  reported 
and  cash  counted  tallied  to  the  penny. 

An  extension  of  a  week  was  given  Meeker,  old 
man  Frisbie  was  sent  out  with  the  wagon,  and  Jud 
was  called  inside.  The  cash  was  irregularly  short 
that  week,  was  short  on  Monday  and  Wednesday, 
but  shortest  on  Saturday,  as  had  generally  been  the 
case. 

Hooker  was  satisfied  that  Jud  Boggs  was  the 
thief,  and  the  thought  pained  and  worried  him 
greatly.  He  was  sure  the  boy's  best  interests,  his  fu- 
ture welfare  perhaps,  depended  upon  the  certain  dis- 
covery of  his  guilt  and  the  infliction  of  some  sort 
of  punishment.  He  set  traps  and  baited  them  now 


98  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

solely  for  Jud.  Close  observation  showed  the  thief 
was  slipping  dimes  and  quarters  into  his  own  pocket 
somewhere  between  the  customer's  hands  and  the 
cash-drawer;  that  the  slip  would  be  made  out  cor- 
rectly, while  short  cash  would  be  deposited.  By  this 
method  the  guilty  was  not  hiding  a  crime,  but  was 
casting  suspicion  over  every  one  in  the  store.  Work- 
ing upon  this  theory  Hooker  set  one  trap  that  all 
but  caught  the  game. 

He  marked  four  silver  quarters  by  cutting  paral- 
lel lines  across  the  neck  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty, 
gave  them  to  old  Mrs.  Cross,  one  of  his  customers, 
who  was  nearly  blind,  and  asked  her  to  visit  the 
store  during  the  Saturday  rush,  call  Jud  Boggs  to 
wait  upon  her,  trade  an  even  dollar's  worth,  and  be 
sure  and  give  him  the  quarters.  Saturday  after- 
noon, when  trade  was  brisk,  Jud  stuck  a  slip  on  the 
desk  spindle  showing  sales  amounting  to  seventy-five 
cents  and  deposited  money  in  the  cash-drawer. 
Hooker  was  observing  him  closely.  He  went  to  the 
desk,  took  the  slip,  and  then  opened  the  drawer, 
where  he  found  three  of  the  marked  quarters.  They 
were  immediately  withdrawn  from  trade  channels. 
The  merchant  had  a  new  theory  and  a  new  discov- 
ery, all  in  an  instant.  He  knew  that  depositing  short 
change  was  not  the  thief's  only  method;  he  was 
incorrectly  marking  sales  slips  and  was  pocketing 
the  difference  between  actual  sales  and  false  mark- 
ings. Here  was  something  hard  to  trace,  unless  he 
followed  up  customers,  and  that  had  its  disagreeable 
features.  Happily  in  this  case,  however,  he  was  pos- 


A    ROBBER   AT    WORK  99 

sessed  of  information  in  advance.  He  called  Jud  to 
him. 

"Didn't  Mrs.  Cross  purchase  a  dollar's  worth  of 
groceries?"  he  asked,  confronting  the  clerk  with 
his  slip. 

"She  didn't  purchase  just  groceries,  there  were 
other  things,"  was  the  reply. 

"But  didn't  she  purchase  an  even  dollar's  worth — 
that's  what  I  want  to  know  ?" 

"I'm  sure  not,"  said  the  blushing  young  man,  "but 
I'll  go  and  ask  her.  I  may  have  made  a  mistake, 
sir.  We're  all  liable  to ;  there  were  changes  made  in 
her  order." 

Jud  turned  and  rushed  down  the  store  as  though 
searching  for  Mrs.  Cross.  Hooker  saw  him  reach 
in  his  trousers'  pocket  as  he  went.  As  he  returned 
to  the  desk  there  was  a  forced  smile  upon  his  face; 
he  reached  for  the  slip  his  employer  still  held,  and 
said: 

"You  are  right,  sir;  I  did  make  a  mistake.  I 
thought  when  I  counted  her  money  and  wrote  the 
slip  that  it  was  seventy-five  cents.  I  found  this 
quarter,  though,  with  the  toweling,  where  I  last 
waited  upon  her.  It  must  be  that  I  dropped  it." 

So  saying  he  made  out  a  new  slip,  tore  up  the  old 
one,  and  deposited  the  quarter  in  the  drawer.  Mr. 
Hooker  picked  out  a  quarter  that  was  warm,  a  mo- 
ment later,  and  saw  it  was  not  marked.  He  knew 
there  was  a  tell-tale  quarter  in  the  pocket  that  last 
held  the  coin,  and  at  first  thought  he  would  call  Jud 
to  the  back  of  the  store  and  demand  it  of  him.  Then 
he  reasoned  that,  inasmuch  as  the  slip  now  showed, 


100  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

and  in  Jud's  handwriting,  that  Mrs.  Cross  had  tra- 
ded a  dollar  and  the  money  was  in  the  drawer,  his 
chain  of  evidence  was  not  very  strong.  It  certainly 
would  not  be  accepted  in  court.  He  reasoned  fur- 
ther that  there  might  have  been  an  error  in  the 
plans,  as  Mrs.  Cross's  sight  was  so  defective  and 
she  was  getting  so  old.  The  deductions  to  be  drawn 
from  the  transaction  were  not  satisfactory. 

The  incident  placed  the  thief  on  his  guard  and  the 
accounts  balanced  at  the  close  of  the  day's  business. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  TELL-TALE  COIN 

Our  good  intentions  often  miscarry.  When  we  are  render- 
ing a  supposed  favor  we  may  be  playing  squarely  into  the 
hands  of  Satan.  It's  a  sad  reflection  for  those  who  wish  only 
to  do  good  in  the  world. — Arabella  Somers. 

I 

In  addition  to  a  long  list  of  duties,  Arabella  was 
elected  treasurer  of  the  Batesville  branch  of  the 
Women's  Baptist  Foreign  Missionary  Society,  and 
she  attended  its  regular  meeting  that  same  Saturday 
afternoon.  When  she  reached  the  parsonage  the 
family  was  at  the  tea  table.  She  laid  three  small 
parcels  by  her  plate,  removed  her  hat,  and  took  her 
accustomed  place. 

"I  do  not  believe  it  is  safe  to  leave  so  much  money 
in  the  missionary  box  in  the  church,"  said  she. 
"Here  I  have  four  dollars  and  more — it's  not  a  safe 
way  to  keep  money.  Any  one  could  easily  open  that 
box,  take  out  a  lot  of  money,  and  no  one  would  be 
the  wiser  when  the  nails  were  driven  in  again.  The 
money  is  all  dropped  through  a  slot,  and  as  it  re- 
mains uncounted  for  a  month  at  a  time,  what  woman 
could  tell  whether  or  not  any  was  missing?  I'm  go- 
ing to  bank  the  money  at  least  as  often  as  once  a 
month  so  long  as  I  am  treasurer." 

"Would  you  mind  giving  me  some  of  the  pennies 


102  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

for  silver?"  asked  Adoniram,  as  he  looked  at  the 
smaller  roll  by  the  plate. 

"Of  course  not,  I  would  be  pleased  to,"  was  the 
reply. 

"I  can  make  use  of  them  in  my  business,"  ob- 
served the  clerk,  as  he  threw  two  silver  quarters 
upon  the  table. 

"At  the  store,  I  suppose,"  suggested  Arabella. 

"Yep,  I  guess  so,"  was  the  somewhat  uncertain 
response. 

This  was  the  longest  conversation  that  had  thus 
far  taken  place  between  the  two.  For  some  reason 
Ad  had  seemed  to  dislike  Arabella;  he  purposely 
shunned  her  and  met  every  effort  on  her  part  to  be 
friendly  with  an  unmistakable  repulse. 

Arabella  was  pleased  at  an  opportunity  to  render 
him  even  a  little  favor.  She  unrolled  one  of  the 
smaller  packages,  counted  out  fifty  pennies,  and  the 
exchange  was  made.  Ad  drew  the  pennies  off  into 
a  small  buckskin  pouch  that  had  a  silken  cord  at  its 
mouth  and  the  initial  "B"  painted  upon  it. 

"I'll  give  you  a  half  for  those  quarters,"  said  Doc- 
tor Boggs.  "I  want  to  send  a  quarter  away  through 
the  mail."  Thus  the  fifty  coppers  became  a  single 
silver  piece  in  the  missionary  collection. 

Monday  morning  Doctor  Boggs  went  to  market. 
He  called  in  at  the  general  store  and  Mr.  Hooker 
waited  upon  him,  the  two  visiting  in  happy  mood 
meanwhile.  In  paying  for  his  purchases  the  Doc- 
tor gave  Hooker  a  silver  quarter. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  seem  too  inquisitive,"  said  the 
merchant,  "but  I'd  like  to  ask  if  you  know  where  you 
got  that  coin?" 


THE    TELL-TALE    COIN  103 

"It's  good,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh,  yes,  it's  good;  but  I'm  just  a  little  curious, 
that  is  all." 

"I  guess  I  can  satisfy  your  curiosity,  then,  in  this 
case,"  said  the  customer  smiling.  "I  received  that 
particular  quarter  from  Miss  Somers  and  Adoniram 
gave  it  to  her  in  exchange  for  smaller  coin." 

"That's  as  far  back  as  I'd  expect  any  one  to  go," 
remarked  Hooker.  "I've  often  thought  how  little 
we  know  of  the  history  of  things  that  come  to  us. 
I  suppose  if  we  knew  the  history  of  that  single  coin 
it  would  be  full  of  interest.  Just  think  how  far  it's 
been  and  where  it's  been!  If  it  could  talk,  what  a 
story  it  could  tell !  It's  over  a  bar  one  day,  possibly 
in  the  church  collection  the  next;  into  the  miser's 
hands,  the  spendthrift's  hands,  possibly  into  a  thief's 
hands,  then  a  minister's,  and  then  mine." 

"That's  true,"  said  the  Doctor.  "I've  thought  of 
it  many  times.  It's  a  pity  we  cannot  trace  evil-do- 
ing and  crime,  and  read  life-histories,  through  good 
money  the  same  as  we  do  through  bad.  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Hooker,  how  is  Adoniram  getting  on  ?" 

"I  think  he's  off  color;  he  doesn't  look  good  to 
me,"  was  the  quick  response.  "Just  since  meeting 
you  I've  decided  to  put  him  back  on  the  wagon.  He 
isn't  suited  to  close,  inside  work.  I'm  sorry  to  do  it, 
as  Jud's  a  bright  boy  and  should  go  steadily  for- 
ward; but  I'm  confident  the  outside  job  is  best  for 
him." 

"I  thank  you  for  such  kindness  in  looking  after 
his  welfare,"  said  the  father  at  parting.  "I'm  sure 
you  know  what  is  best  for  him." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MISLEADING  SIGNS 

People  who  brag  of  their  stead'ness,  their  level-head'ness, 
their  great  equ'poise,  allers  lose  their  footin'  first.  A  boy's 
foot  '11  slip  easiest  when  the  solid  rock's  got  some  Chris'mas 
green  on  it,  sure  pop. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  firm  of  Hopkins  &  Boggs  was  doing  business 
now-a-days.  From  morning  till  night  everything 
was  preparation  for  the  forthcoming  theatrical 
event.  The  firm  was  on  good  terms  with  every- 
body in  Batesville  and  especially  with  prospective 
ticket-purchasers  and  property-loaners.  The  boys 
bothered  Arabella  nearly  to  death,  and  ran  to  her 
several  times  each  day  with  questions,  begging  ad- 
vice and  suggestions.  She  readily  saw  the  under- 
taking was  to  become  a  great  nuisance  to  her  and 
threatened  to  seriously  interfere  with  her  own  work 
and  plans,  so  she  felt  obliged  to  throw  the  firm  upon 
its  own  resources. 

The  boys  accepted  the  situation  gracefully,  and 
no  disappointment  or  discouragement  seemed  great 
enough  to  dampen  their  ardor.  Everybody  in  town 
was  remarking  the  change  that  seemed  to  have  come 
over  them,  and  near  neighbors  were  commenting  on 
the  fact  that  Sammy  had  gone  a  whole  week  nearly 


MISLEADING   SIGNS  105 

without  once  interviewing  his  father  in  the  study. 
This  was  a  great  relief  to  the  neighborhood. 

His  feet  slipped,  however,  on  Friday,  the  day  of 
all  days  when  it  seems  easiest  for  a  boy  to  lose  his 
footing,  and  in  the  evening  he  stole  up  to  Arabella's 
room  and  told  her  all  about  it. 

"Tim  Haldane  come  in  with  some  new  potatoes  an' 
things,"  said  he,  "an' he  had  somesquashes  he  couldn't 
get  rid  of.  He  saw  me  an'  Ben  down  to  the  corners  an' 
he  called  me  an'  ast  me  if  I  didn't  want  to  take  some 
nice  squashes  to  my  mother.  I  said  I  did  an'  ast  Ben 
to  go  with  me.  We  borrered  a  basket  of  Jud,  out  of 
his  wagon,  an'  went  over  to  where  Tim's  wagon 
was  standin'.  Tim  was  gen'rous.  He  said  to  us, 
'Pick  out  all  you  can  carry,  boys.'  I  looked  over  the 
end-board  an'  saw  they  was  those  crooked-neck  yel- 
low kind,  like  what  gran'ma  worked  on  my  bed- 
spread an'  I  wouldn't  sleep  under,  an'  I  was  sorry 
I'd  come  for  'em.  I  didn't  want  to  touch  'em.  Ben 
didn't  want  to,  nuther,  at  first ;  but  after  that  he  per- 
tended  to  be  bold  an'  brave,  an'  braced  up  big  an? 
took  'em  when  Tim  handed  'em  to  him.  I  ast  Tim 
to  pick  'em  out  'cause  he'd  know  which  ones  was 
best  an'  which  ones  he  wanted  to  let  go  most,  an'  he 
done  it.  Then  me  an'  Ben  lugged  'em  home,  a  big 
half-bushel.  We  stopped  to  catch  our  breath  right 
in  front  of  Widow  Townsend's.  Ben  said  the  widow 
was  gettin'  top-lofty  now-a-days  'cause  she  had  the 
first  door-bell  in  town  an'  wanted  everybody  to  know 
it.  I  said  I  didn't  know  she  had  it.  He  pointed  it 
out  to  me ;  it  was  the  porc'l'in  knob  on  the  right  side, 
same  kind  you  use  for  nest-eggs,  an'  said  you  had  to 


106  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

pull  it  to  ring  it.  There  was  a  sign  on  a  card  stuck 
in  over  it  what  said  'Ring  the  Bell'  on  it.  Ben  said 
it  was  a  com'and  or  invite,  one  or  t'other,  an'  he'd 
pulled  it  three  or  four  times  a'ready,  an'  I  ought  to 
do  it.  I  went  up  to  look  at  it  when  Ben  said  it  was  a 
mighty  mean  boy  what  wouldn't  want  to  do  a  little 
thing  like  that  when  he  was  ast  to  do  it,  yet  he 
s'posed  there  was  some  sissy  boys  who  wouldn't  do 
it.  I  said  I  would  do  it  but  I  didn't  know  how.  He 
laughed  at  me  an'  said  he  didn't,  either,  until  he'd 
tried  it;  that  a  boy  must  have  a  chicken's  heart  or  a 
chick'dee's  liver  who  wouldn't  wish  to  learn  how 
'twas  done  an'  how  it  worked,  an'  then  he  dast  me 
to  do  it.  I  couldn't  take  a  dare  from  him,  so  I  jerk- 
ed it  onct,  good  an'  hard.  I  stood  to  do  it  again 
'cause  I  didn't  hear  it  ring,  but  Ben  said  we'd  better 
skin  out  of  that  mighty  quick.  The  old  lady  didn't 
mean  it  for  a  invite,  'cause  she  stuck  her  frowsy  old 
head  an'  scare-crow  face  out  of  that  door  in  less'n  a 
minit,  and  said:  'There,  Sammy  Boggs,  I  caught 
you  this  time !  I'll  tell  your  father  on  you.' ' 

"She  told,  and  you  were  punished,  I  suppose,"  said 
Arabella. 

"Yes,  I  was  licked ;  an'  that  ain't  the  worst  of  it. 
She  told  I  was  the  kid  what  done  it  all  the  time,  an' 
I  got  what  belonged  to  Ben  for  it." 

"It  was  another  instance  of  'poor  dog  Tray  in  bad 
company,'  I  guess." 

"Yessum,  I  s'pose  'twas,  for  Ben  told  me  just 
what  to  say  to  dad  about  it ;  said  I  could  tell  him  he'd 
done  some  of  it ;  told  me  to  say  I'd  done  it  'cause  the 


MISLEADING    SIGNS  107 

invite  was  there  for  me  to  do  it;  but  I  want  to  tell 
t'other  side  of  it." 

"And  I  want  to  hear  it,"  said  the  interested  lis- 
tener. 

"We  turned  them  squashes  out  into  one  of  ma's 
baskets  out  in  the  woodshed.  Ma  was  mighty  glad 
to  get  'em;  said  she  didn't  see  how  Tim  Haldane 
could  'ford  to  spare  'em.  I  guess  she  was  thinkin' 
then  about  the  time  Tim  sold  her  some  sweet  corn 
and  ast  her  if  she'd  mind  savin'  the  husks  for  him, 
'cause  he  was  makin'  a  mat'ress.  I  ast  Ben  to  go 
with  me  to  take  the  basket  back,  but  he  didn't  want 
to  do  it ;  said  he  hadn't  fed  his  rabbits  an'  wanted  to 
study  on  the  play  some.  I  thought  of  the  penny 
what  we  found  at  the  Roost,  an'  said  we'd  spend  it 
and  go  ha'vers — we'd  both  forgot  it.  Ben  felt  in 
his  pocket  an'  it  was  there,  an'  we  went.  We  didn't 
go  on  Widow  Townsend's  side,  though,  we  cross'd 
over.  I  was  lookin'  for  door-bells  and  door-signs 
most  all  the  time ;  but  Ben  was  right  about  it,  other 
folks  didn't  have  'em.  At  the  store  I  saw  one, 
though.  It  was  pasted  on  the  inside  of  the  big  front 
door  what  has  glass  in  it,  an'  it  said  'Shut  the  Door/ 
It  was  a  sort  of  gre'sy  sign  an'  tran'parency  like,  but 
'twas  plain  'nough  to  see  it.  The  door  was  open  an' 
a  basket  of  oranges  was  set  against  it.  I  said  to 
Ben,  'See  that  command  or  invite,  there  ?'  an'  I  point- 
ed at  the  door." 

"  'I've  seen  that  many  a  time,  an'  I've  allers  done 
it,  too,'  said  Ben. 

"  'Why  don't  you  do  it  now  ?'  I  ast. 


108  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

"  'It's  summer  now,  an'  they  don't  want  it  shut,' 
said  Ben. 

"  'What's  the  command  or  invite  there  for,  then  ?' 
I  said.  'It's  a  mighty  mean  boy  what  won't  do  a  lit- 
tle thing  like  that  when  he's  ast  to  do  it,  an'  yet  I 
s'pose  there  is  sissy  boys  who  wouldn't  do  it ;  a  boy 
must  have  a  chicken's  liver  an'  a  chick' dee's  heart 
what  wouldn't  want  to  do  it.'  I  said  this  just 's  big 
's  I  could. 

"  'You  do  it,  then/  said  he. 

"I'd  no  'scuse.  'You've  got  the  money  an'  it's 
your  turn  to  buy,'  said  I,  an'  then  I  dared  him  to  do 
it.  He  said  he'd  not  take  my  dare  an'  he'd  do  it 
when  he  come  out.  He  took  the  basket  to  the  back 
of  the  store,  an'  comin'  out  ast  Al  Bradley  for  some 
stick  candy.  I  was  watchin'  at  the  front.  When 
he  come  out  he  dasn't  do  it,  an'  I  laughed  at  him. 
He  looked  mad  at  me  an'  ast  if  I  didn't  see  Hooker 
standin'  right  there;  said  Hooker  was  a  wise  old 
guy  an'  was  onto  him.  I  laughed  some  more  an' 
he  said  he  would  do  it  if  he  was  to  do  it  ag'in.  When 
he  held  up  the  candy  for  me  to  break  with  him  I  saw 
'twas  lemon,  with  yellow  stripes  wound  round  it,  an' 
I  wouldn't  break  with  him — I  wouldn't  touch  it.  I 
told  Ben  to  take  it  back  an'  get  pep'mint  with  red 
stripes,  an'  he  done  it.  When  he  come  out  he  eyed 
Hooker  close,  hustled  an'  moved  the  basket,  an' 
slam'd  the  door  behind  him.  It  didn't  take  Hooker 
long  to  get  out.  He  called  to  Ben,  an'  Ben  said  he'd 
be  dummed  if  he'd  go  back.  I  told  him  just  what 
to  say  'bout  it;  told  him  to  say  he'd  done  it'  cause 


MISLEADING   SIGNS  109 

the  invite  was  there,  an'  I  said  I'd  face  the  music 
with  him,  an'  we  faced  it.' 

"  'What'd  you  shut  the  door  for  ?'  asked  Hooker, 
as  we  stood  off  a  bit. 

"  '  'Cause  you  ast  me  to,'  said  Ben. 
'  'No,  I  didn't,'  said  Hooker. 

"  'Yes,  you  did,'  said  Ben.  'It's  right  there  on  the 
door  as  plain's  the  nose  on  your  face,  "Shut  the 
Door,"  see !' 

"Hooker  laughed,  an'  all  who'd  come  up  looked. 
They  laughed  an'  Hooker  laughed.  Then  the  old 
man  said  he  guessed  'twas  one  on  him  an'  he'd 
treat." 

"What  did  he  do  then?"  asked  Arabella,  much 
interested  in  the  developments. 

"He  called  to  Frisbie  to  get  a  putty-knife  or 
so'thin'  an'  scrape  the  'invite'  off.  Frisbie  told  him 
Ben  Hopkins  had  allers  been  the  best  kid  in  town  to 
shut  that  door ;  that  he'd  never  had  t'o  yell  at  him  for 
not  doin'  it.  Hooker  treated  the  crowd  to  oranges — 
all  but  me." 

"And  why  not  you  ?" 

"  'Cause  I  told  him  I  never  ate  oranges,  I  didn't 
like  to  handle  'em,  an'  he  give  me  a  sack  of  peanuts. 
Well,  that  night  the  old  crone  told  dad  on  me,  an'  he 
called  me  to  the  study  and  whipped  me.  I  tried  to 
put  on  a  good  face,  as  Ben  told  me  to ;  tried  to  'splain 
about  the  invite  an'  about  Ben's  pullin'  it  more'n  I 
done,  but  'twas  no  use.  I  tried  to  tell  him  about 
Hooker's  treat,  but  he  wouldn't  lis'n ;  he  never  does. 
He  said  I  was  born  bright,  an'  knew  better,  an' 
ought  to  have  sense  'nough  not  to  tease  a  poor,  lone, 


HO  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

lorn  widow,  or  so'thin'  like  that.  Pa's  allers  had 
pity  for  widows,  he  has.  I  wish  he  had  half  as  much 
for  me.  I  wish  I'd  done  Ben's  stunt  an'  he'd  done 
mine.  I  guess  I  d'served  th'  lickin'  all  right,  'nough, 
an'  'twan't  a  very  hard  one.  I  don't  kick,  Miss  Bella, 
over  lickin's  what  I  d' serve ;  it's  what  I  don't  d' serve, 
like  the  Bill  Taylor  kind,  I  kick  on.  If  we'd  left  them 
yellow  squashes  alone  'twould  have  been  all  right." 


CHAPTER  XV 

PREACHING  TO  A  PREACHER 

A  man  who  is  paid  regularly  for  giving  advice  to  others 
ought  always  to  be  willing  to  accept  a  few  kindly  suggestions 
himself.  They  might  come  handy  to  him  in  his  business. — 
Arabella  Somers. 

The  day  after  this  incident  and  its  recital  Arabella 
was  at  the  class-room  unpacking  the  kindergarten 
supplies.  She  started  for  dinner  and  was  overtaken 
by  Doctor  Boggs  as  she  reached  the  street.  The 
Doctor  was  all  smiles,  and  said : 

"I  just  heard  a  good  one  on  Hooker;  he  told  me 
himself.  Benny  Hopkins  saw  a  sign  on  his  front 
door  that  read  'Shut  the  Door.'  It  was  placed  there 
along  last  winter.  In  coming  out  of  the  store  Benny 
moved  a  basket  of  oranges  and  shut  the  door  with  a 
slam.  Hooker  was  angry  in  an  instant  and  rushed 
out  and  called  the  boy  back.  Benny  faced  the  music 
like  a  major.  He  said  he  shut  the  door  because  he 
was  ordered  to,  and  he  pointed  to  the  sign  as  he  said 
it.  There  were  several  persons  there  to  hear  it,  and 
Hooker  took  in  the  situation  at  once,  laughed,  and 
said  he  guessed  it  was  one  on  him,  and  he  treated  the 
crowd.  Wasn't  that  a  good  one  ?" 

Arabella  agreed  with  her   pastor   that   it  was   a 


112  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

clever  joke,  and  she  contrived  to  dwell  upon  the  sub- 
ject until  they  reached  Widow  Townsend's.  Then 
she  stopped,  checked  her  pastor's  progress,  looked 
him  squarely  in  the  face,  and  said : 

"And  yet  I  know  a  Christian  man,  a  minister  of 
the  gospel,  who  flogged  his  son  because  he  rang  a 
door-bell  that  had  the  sign  'Ring  the  bell'  conspicu- 
ously above  it !" 

The  Doctor's  smile  left  his  face  as  she  pointed  to 
the  bell  and  sign.  They  passed  on,  but  Arabella  had 
no  intention  of  leaving  the  subject,  now  that  the  ice 
was  fairly  broken. 

"I  do  not  see  how  Sammy's  little  act  of  mischief 
was  any  different  from  Benny's,"  said  she.  "You 
consider  it  a  huge  joke  in  Benny's  case,  but  it  is  a 
serious  wrong  and  a  mountain  of  evil  in  the  case  of 
your  own  son.  I  confess  I  am  unable  to  see  the  dif- 
ference, and  I  cannot  understand  how  you  draw 
your  conclusions.  Your  Sammy  rang  the  widow's 
bell  but  once,  as  I  happen  to  know.  The  sign  itself 
suggested  a  piece  of  mischief  to  a  bright  and  active 
mind.  The  widow  reports  on  Sammy  and  he  is 
made  to  pay  the  penalty  for  all  the  annoyance  the 
foolish  and  unnecessary  sign  brought  the  vain 
woman.  I  could  have  told  you  the  truth  of  the  af- 
fair, just  as  I  could  have  done  in  the  Taylor  case." 

"I  admit  I  was  wrong  in  that  case." 

"Have  you  ever  admitted  it  to  the  boy  you  pun- 
ished so  severely  ?" 

"No,  I  think  that  would  be  subversive  of  good 
discipline." 


PREACHING  TO  A  PREACHER        113 

"Good  discipline  to  the  dogs!"  exclaimed  Ara- 
bella, with  much  feeling.  "I  believe  in  acknowledg- 
ing a  wrong  done  any  one,  and  certainly  to  those 
who  are  nearest  and  dearest  to  us.  There  are  always 
ways  in  which  to  do  it.  Your  son  knows  you  were 
in  the  wrong;  that  wretched  Taylor  has  practically 
admitted  he  lied  and  I  know  he  did,  and  I  cannot 
see  why  you  should  not  take  Sammy  into  your  arms 
and  heart  and  explain  the  situation  fully  to  him. 
You  ought  not  to  exact  more  frankness  from  a  son 
than  you  are  willing  to  give.  How  else  can  you  hold 
the  confidence,  respect,  and  love  of  your  boys  ?  You 
can  do  more,  in  my  humble  judgment,  by  the  exer- 
cise of  such  frankness,  the  sure  display  of  parental 
love,  and  the  plain  reasoning  that  must  necessarily 
accompany  it,  than  can  be  accomplished  by  all  the 
corporal  punishments  imaginable.  More  than  this, 
a  boy  who  understands  a  father  loves  him,  sympa- 
thizes with  him,  and  wishes  his  happiness  does  not 
need  the  rod.  A  calm  and  fatherly  talk  will  bring 
him  to  tears  of  repentance,  where  a  severe  flogging, 
with  elements  of  haste  and  anger,  and  display  of  un- 
equal strength  in  it,  will  but  harden  and  alienate 
him." 

"You  would  wish  a  father  to  conquer  his  children 
and  hold  control,  wouldn't  you  ?" 

"Certainly,  ever  to  hold  control;  but  not  to  con- 
quer in  the  spirit  of  a  conqueror.  We  may  only  dis- 
agree as  to  methods.  A  parent  cannot  possibly  be 
too  solicitous,  too  watchful;  but  he  should  ever  be 
gentle,  reproving  earnestly — never  in  anger,  never 


114  A    STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

with  a  display  of  mere  physical  strength.  Gentle- 
ness should  ever  be  mixed  with  firmness.  I  do  not 
believe  a  Christian  parent  ever  had  excuse  for  flog- 
ging a  child.  There  may  be  exceptions — I  do  not 
believe  it." 

"I  cannot  agree  with  you  at  all,  Miss  Somers," 
said  the  Doctor.  "There's  our  Adoniram,  for  in- 
stance. I  stopped  whipping  him  when  he  went  for 
himself.  He's  worse  now  than  he  was  then,  worse 
without  it  than  he  was  with  it.  He  sorely  grieves 
me  now,  is  wilful,  headstrong,  irreligious,  and  stub- 
born." 

"I  have  reason  to  know  you  feel  something  the 
same  way  toward  Sammy.  He  is  scarcely  nine> 
while  Jud  is  fourteen  and  past.  You  have  not 
spared  the  rod  in  Sammy's  case.  No,  Doctor  Boggs, 
the  trouble  is  somewhere  else.  I  would  like  to  ask 
you  a  few  plain  questions.  You  need  not  necessari- 
ly answer  them  now,  you  can  think  them  over  and 
answer  me  later.  How  much  of  your  boy's  confi- 
dence do  you  hold  ?  How  much  time  do  you  devote 
to  them  and  their  happiness?  How  much  do  you 
enter  into  their  pastimes,  their  joys,  and  sorrows? 
How  often  do  you  counsel  with  them  that  they  may 
feel  there  exist  mutual  interests  ?  What  do  you  pro- 
vide for  their  amusement?  What  for  their  mental 
enjoyment?  Do  you  hold  them  at  all,  or  are  they 
steadily  slipping  away  from  you?  Where  are  the 
absent  boys ?  What  are  they  doing?  Do  you  receive 
regularly  loving  messages  from  them?  I  believe  a 
father  should  ever  be  a  companion  for  his  boys — 


PREACHING    TO    A    PREACHER  115 

their  chum,  their  next  best  friend;  next  to  their 
mother,  their  very  best  friend  on  earth.  He  should 
be  their  shelter  in  every  storm,  their  comforter  in 
every  sorrow,  their  confidential  and  silent  partner  in 
every  enterprise.  When  a  father  spends  a  consider- 
able portion  of  his  time  at  home  there  seems  little 
excuse  for  his  boys  getting-  away  from  him.  He  can 
enter  into  their  daily  lives  and  by  the  exercise  of 
kindly  sympathies  and  tender  affections  bind  them 
close  to  him  with  golden  chains  of  love.  A  bright 
boy  dreads  a  father's  displeasure,  his  frown,  much 
worse  than  he  dreads  a  rod.  You  cannot  burn  good- 
ness into  a  boy  and  you  can't  whip  it  into  him.  You 
cannot  drive  witches  out  with  switches,  even  though 
some  of  our  good  Baptist  ancestors  believed  it ;  and 
neither  can  you  pound  badness  out  of  a  boy.  There 
are  other  certain  and  better  ways  of  doing  it.  I  say 
these  things  with  due  respect  to  you  and  your  call- 
ing." 

"I  have  always  tried  to  correct  my  boys,  and 
show  them  their  faults  as  a  father  should." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  admit  it,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  your 
method  of  doing  it  by  corporal  punishment  seems  to 
have  the  sanction  of  the  Bible.  Is  it  not  possible 
that  you  are  frequently  too  hasty  in  your  judgments, 
too  vigorous  in  your  punishments,  and  too  apt  to 
lose  all  patience?  I  fear  you  punish  many  times 
without  being  sure  of  the  facts,  as  in  the  Taylor 
case.  You  have  admitted  your  error  in  the  Taylor 
case,  and  have  practically  admitted  the  pulling  of 
the  door-bell  was  but  a  mere  child's  prank." 


Il6  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

"Yes,  I  admit  that  now,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "but  I 
can  never  agree  with  you  that  all  corporal  punish- 
ments are  unnecessary." 

They  reached  the  parsonage  much  too  soon  for 
Arabella,  but  none  too  soon  for  the  Doctor.  Dur- 
ing the  dinner  hour  Doctor  Boggs  appeared  thought- 
ful and  at  times  absent-minded. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
DINAH'S  BAPTISM 

Advice  is  cheap,  but  it  isn't  safe  to  follow  all  that  you're 
bound  to  get  from  a  bunch  of  excited  women  when  a  house  's 
on  fire  or  some  one's  drownin'. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  kindergarten  opened  the  first  Monday  in  Sep- 
tember, just  two  weeks  earlier  that  the  public  school, 
and  twenty-three  pupils  were  enrolled.  The  first  to  be 
offered  and  to  be  accepted  was  the  youngest  member 
of  the  school — charming,  petite,  and  bewitching  Rose 
Wilson,  only  child  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Wilson, 
who  lived  in  a  neat  cottage  next  to  the  Baptist 
Church.  Mrs.  Wilson  was  the  only  child  of  Hiram 
Hooker,  and  naturally  the  granddaughter  was  the 
very  apple  of  the  merchant's  eye.  She  was  his  idol  and 
the  prospective  heir  to  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
growing  fortune.  She  was  barely  five  years  of  age, 
but  had  been  so  trained  and  cared  for  by  doting  par- 
ents that  Arabella  felt  she  was  advanced  far  beyond 
the  majority  of  children  of  like  age,  and  so  decided 
to  take  her.  Rose  was  a  general  favorite  with  the 
children,  who  vied  with  each  other  in  showering  at- 
tentions upon  her.  With  silken  hair  falling  in  ring- 
lets to  her  shapely  shoulders,  her  beautifully-mould- 
ed form,  large  blue  eyes,  deep  dimples  and  natural 


Il8  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

gracefulness,  no  one  could  help  loving  her,  and  it 
was  difficult  for  any  one  to  keep  hands  off  her. 

The  little  cherub  threw  the  town  into  great  excite- 
ment at  the  close  of  her  first  school  week. 

Arabella  was  at  the  class-room,  attending  to  many 
things,  when  Mrs.  Wilson  came  to  the  division 
fence  and  inquired  how  long  she  was  to  remain,  and 
if  she  would  be  willing  to  look  after  Rose  while  she 
and  a  lady  friend  made  some  calls.  Arabella  was 
delighted  to  accept  the  responsibility,  and  went  to 
the  fence  to  receive  the  little  one  from  her  mother's 
arms.  Rose  never  looked  sweeter  to  her.  She  had 
on  her  'fav-o-wite  dwess'  of  yellow  dimity,  and  car- 
ried her  black  doll,  Dinah,  in  one  hand.  After  sev- 
eral hugs  and  kisses  the  pupil  was  left  to  amuse  her- 
self with  geometrical  blocks,  colored  balls,  and  other 
things  that  were  near  at  hand,  while  the  teacher  con- 
tinued some  writing  at  the  desk. 

"I'se  goin'  to  'tize  Dinah,"  said  Rose,  bringing 
the  rag  baby  up  to  the  desk  and  looking  into  Ara- 
bella's eyes  as  though  seeking  her  approval. 

"You  are  going  to  do  what,  dearie?" 

"Goin'  to  'tize  Dinah  in  the  watah,"  was  the  re- 
ply. 

Arabella  clearly  understood  this  time,  but  little 
dreamed  her  caller  seriously  intended  to  immerse 
her  dolly.  She  knew  Simmons,  the  sexton,  was 
about  the  church,  doing  the  customary  Saturday's 
cleaning;  that  the  doors  and  windows  were  open  to 
give  the  audience-room  an  airing;  but  it  never  oc- 
curred to  her  the  cover  to  the  baptistry  had  been 


DINAHS    BAPTISM  119 

raised  for  any  purpose,  and  that  Rose  had  discov- 
ered the  fact. 

"You  shall  'tize  Dinah,"  said  she,  as  she  took  an 
empty  box  from  the  closet  and  set  it  by  the  desk. 
"This  will  be  your  little  baptistry,  and  you  can  'tize 
Dinah  in  it." 

It  was  not  easy  to  convince  the  child  that  a  bap- 
tistry without  water  would  answer  her  purpose,  but 
after  much  coaxing  she  knelt  down  by  the  box,  held 
Dinah  upright  within  it,  and  said  with  great  sol- 
emnity : 

"I  'tize  'oo,  Dinah  Wilson;  name  of  fadah,  son, 
in-the-hole-you-go,  Amen !" 

As  she  said  this  she  buried  Dinah  beneath  the 
imaginary  water  of  the  improvised  baptismal  font. 

Arabella  was  so  surprised  and  pleased  with  this 
bit  of  originality  that  she  could  not  keep  from  re- 
vealing it,  and,  try  as  best  she  could,  Rose  could  not 
be  induced  to  repeat  the  performance  for  her.  The 
teacher  went  back  to  the  desk  and  took  out  a  book 
she  had  designed  for  the  bright  sayings  and  doings 
of  her  little  ones,  and  wrote  a  brief  account  of  Di- 
nah's baptism. 

She  had  barely  noted  down  the  "in-a-hole-you- 
go"  when  she  heard  a  short  scream  and  a  splash. 
She  rushed  into  the  audience-room,  up  the  pulpit 
steps,  and  saw  that  Rose  had  fallen  headlong  into  the 
real  baptistry,  now  well  filled  with  water.  Wild, 
excited,  bewildered,  frantic,  she  screamed  and  cried 
for  help,  ran  down  the  aisle  and  out  the  front 
door.  Simmons  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Sammy 
was  coming  down  the  street,  evidently  to  meet  her, 


120  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

and  heard  the  cries.  He  ran  to  her,  and  with  difficulty 
gained  information  as  to  the  cause  of  her  frenzy. 
He  caught  the  words  "Rose"  and  "baptistry,"  and 
was  not  long  in  reaching  the  platform.  He  was 
down  the  baptistry  steps  and  up  to  his  chin  in  the 
water  in  another  instant;  grasped  Rose's  skirts, 
drew  her  up  to  him,  and,  taking  her  limp  form  in  his 
arms,  staggered  with  her  up  the  steps.  Arabella 
was  now  sufficiently  composed  to  be  of  some  assist- 
ance, and  she  took  hold  of  his  arm  and  steadied  him. 
Rose  was  unconscious  and  was  holding  fast  to 
Dinah. 

"Oh,  if  Jud  were  only  here !"  cried  Sammy.  "He 
knows  what  to  do  when  a  feller's  drowned.  He 
saved  a  boy  once." 

Scarcely  had  the  words  been  spoken,  when  Jud 
drove  up  with  Simmons  and  his  kerosene  can.  Ar- 
abella and  Sam  called  to  them  and  particularly  to 
Jud,  telling  him  to  wait  for  nothing.  Jud  left  Sim- 
mons in  care  of  the  horse  and  ran  to  the  platform. 
He  took  in  the  situation  at  once,  and  directed  every- 
thing with  the  coolness  of  a  hospital  surgeon.  He 
told  Sammy  to  get  down  on  all  fours,  and  he  placed 
the  limp  form  of  the  child  across  his  back,  stomach 
down,  that  the  water  might  drain  from  her.  Then 
he  placed  the  little  one  upon  her  back,  and,  while 
Arabella  and  Sam  followed  his  directions  in  rub- 
bing her  limbs  and  body  vigorously,  he  worked  her 
arms  up  over  her  head  and  back  again  to  her  sides 
many  times,  compressing  and  relaxing  her  chest  as 
he  did  so. 

They  were  working  this  way  when  several  of  the 


DINAH  S    BAPTISM  121 

nearer  neighbors  rushed  in  to  make  exclamations, 
wring  their  hands,  stare  their  eyes  out,  and  then  to 
make  all  kinds  of  suggestions  and  name  a  thousand 
nostrums  that  would  surely  prove  effective.  Jud 
paid  no  attention  whatever  to  these,  but  worked 
away  like  a  skilled  operator,  perspiring  and 
fatigued.  Doctors  Boise  and  Johnson,  the  medical 
talent  of  the  village,  were  not  long  in  arriving  upon 
the  scene.  Simmons  had  gone  for  them  with  the  de- 
livery wagon.  Doctor  Boise  was  the  first  to  dis- 
cover a  pulse  and  other  signs  of  returning  life.  He 
declared  that  just  the  right  things  had  been  done 
and  that  the  little  one  would  recover.  Restoratives 
were  administered  and  soon  Rose  opened  her  eyes 
and  asked  for  Dinah. 

It  was  Jud  who  carried  Rose  from  the  church  to 
the  arms  of  her  mother,  who  nearly  fainted  as  she 
ran  toward  him.  The  physicians  then  devoted  their 
time  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  while  Jud  again  took  up  the 
precious  little  burden  and  carried  her  into  the  house, 
where  he  and  Arabella  undressed  her,  dried  her 
skin  with  soft  flannels,  put  on  her  nightgown  and 
tucked  her  in  her  own  bed,  where  she  slept  peace- 
fully. 

"When  I  went  for  kerosene  I  didn't  know  there 
was  to  be  a  baptism,"  said  "Persimmons  Bill,"  the 
sexton.  "That  water  had  been  standin'  in  the  tank 
to  keep  it  from  leakin',  a  good  bit,  and  it  had  wig- 
glers  in  it  and  didn't  smell  good,  so  I  raised  the 
doors  to  air  it." 

The  Boggs  boys  were  given  full  credit  for  the 
rescue.  The  doctors,  Arabella,  Simmons,  and  ev- 


122  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

erybody  in  town,  including  Bill  Taylor,  were  sound- 
ing their  praises.  No  one  seemed  quite  positive  as  to 
which  deserved  the  most  credit — Sam,  who  took  the 
little  one  from  the  water,  or  Jud,  who  appeared  to 
know  just  what  to  do  afterwards.  It  was  a  subject 
for  considerable  controversy  for  weeks.  Sammy 
carried  his  honors  gracefully  and  philosophically. 
His  one  reflection,  that  promised  to  outlive  him, 
was,  "You  might  have  expected  as  much  with  her  in 
that  yellow  dress." 

Arabella  was  the  object  of  considerable  censure 
following  the  incident.  Some  said  she  lost  her  head 
completely,  some  that  a  person  so  hysterical  had  no 
business  teaching  children,  and  others  that  she  was 
a  pretty  poor  Baptist,  to  be  so  afraid  of  water.  She 
realized  the  life  of  the  kindergarten  was  threatened 
and  set  herself  and  her  wits  to  work  to  avert  it. 
Monday  morning  she  engaged  a  carpenter  to  con- 
struct a  picket  gate  for  the  doorway  leading  to  the 
audience-room,  and  provided  a  padlock  and  key  for 
it.  A  lock  was  also  placed  upon  the  cover  to  the 
baptistry.  When  parents  were  made  aware  of  these 
precautions  they  gradually  committed  their  children 
to  Arabella's  care  once  more,  and  Henry  Wilson  and 
his  wife  were  kind  enough  and  charitable  enough  to 
send  their  sweet  Rose  back  before  the  close  of  a 
week. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  HEATHEN  GET  A  BENEFIT 

An  actor,  nat'rally  good,  can  spoil  a  whole  show  by  mixin'  in 
at  the  wrong  time.  It's  as  well  to  be  sure  of  your  time  to 
do  a  thing  as  'tis  to  know  the  thing  you're  goin'  to  do  is  worth 
the  doin'. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

Hopkins  &  Boggs  had  announcements  out  for  the 
forthcoming  "Spectac'lar"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  to 
be  presented  in  Mrs.  Hopkins' s  parlors  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  second  Saturday  in  September;  admis- 
sion, five  cents ;  proceeds  for  the  benefit  of  the  Wom- 
en's Baptist  Foreign  Missions'  fund.  It  was  the  cul- 
mination of  three  weeks  of  incessant  toil  and  plan- 
ning on  the  part  of  the  enthusiastic  showmen,  and 
was  their  first  performance  to  which  the  general  pub- 
lic was  invited.  Their  professional  reputations  were 
at  stake  and  they  realized  it. 

Unfortunately  for  Arabella,  her  mother  was  not 
at  all  well  and  her  father  came  to  take  her  home  for 
a  brief  visit.  She  expressed  her  keen  regrets  to  the 
managers,  left  the  price  of  one  admission,  and  made 
all  kinds  of  predictions  for  the  financial  and  histri- 
onic success  of  the  enterprise. 

When  she  reached  the  parsonage  Sunday  evening 
two  sadly-dispirited  boys  were  on  hand  to  meet  her. 
They  looked  sadder  than  a  funeral  procession  in  a 


124  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

rain  storm.  Arabella  readily  saw  things  had  gone 
against  them,  and  was  determined  to  cheer  them  up 
as  best  she  could,  and  to  lend  all  possible  sympathy 
and  comfort. 

"Come,  boys,"  said  she,  "how  was  it?  I'm  fairly 
dying  to  hear  about  it.  Tell  me  all,  now ;  please  do, 
right  from  the  beginning." 

"Ain't  much  to  tell,"  said  Ben ;  "  'twas  all  a  fiz- 
zle." 

"  'Twas  rotten,"  said  Sam. 

"Abs'lut'ly  bum,"  said  Ben. 

"Now,  see  here,  boys,  you're  a  little  down  on  your 
luck.  I  know  it  wasn't  as  bad  as  all  that;  anyhow, 
it  was  your  first  experience  and  I'm  sure  you  will 
improve  upon  it  next  time." 

"There'll  be  no  next  time,"  said  Ben.  "This  is  our 
last.  We've  ruin'd  our  reps,  on  it;  it's  all  off,  and 
tomorrow  school  begins." 

"As  bad  as  it  was,  as  bad  as  you  think  it  was,  you 
must  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Arabella,  handing 
each  a  nice  red  apple. 

"We  was  goin'  to  have  it  in  the  barn  first,"  said 
Sammy,  "but  I  wouldn't  go  there  'cause  that  old 
yellow  barn  cat  was  around,  an'  I  knowed  it  wouldn't 
bring  us  any  good  luck.  Ben's  ma  said  we  could  have 
it  in  the  house  if  we'd  do  it  for  the  heath'n.  I  told 
Ben  if  that  cat  ever  got  in  the  house  it  would  go 
agin  us.  He  said  there  was  no  danger;  it  never 
come  farther'n  the  back  door,  where  'twas  fed,  and 
I  needn't  fret  my  gizz'rd  pins  over  it;  that  I  was 
allers  sup'stitious  'bout  so'thin'.  He  don't  feel  that 


THE   HEATHEN    GET   A   BENEFIT  125 

way  now,  an'  if  I  was  him  I'd  kill  the  dum  thing 
'fore  I  slept." 

"Did  the  cat  have  anything  to  do  with  the  per- 
formance?" asked  Arabella. 

"Some,  I  should  say  so!"  said  Ben,  whose  dra- 
matic instincts  were  now  fairly  aroused.  "You  know 
we  had  our  front  parlor  for  the  folks,  an'  the  back 
parlor  for  the  stage,  an'  the  doors  what  slide  for  the 
curt'in.  My  girl  sat  with  her  ma  in  the  right  box 
an'  our  teacher  sat  in  the  left  box,  all  'dead-heads.' 
We  played  the  tablo  of  the  cabin  all  right  an'  it  was 
fine;  the  fellows  what  was  blacked  up  stood  mighty 
still.  Then  we  was  puttin'  on  the  spectac'lar  where 
Liza  Harris  makes  her  'scape  'cross  the  river  on  the 
ice.  I  was  doin'  Haley  an'  was  directin'.  Our  dog 
Pluto  was  my  blood-houn',  an'  he  wouldn't  chase 
Liza,  'cause  she's  our  colored  cook  what  feeds  him, 
an'  we'd  tried  him.  He  wouldn't  foller  her,  hardly, 
he's  so  fat  and  lazy — won't  chase  nothin'  but  cats. 
He'll  set  on  his  tail  an'  howl,  though,  when  he  hears 
music — sad  music,  mostly.  I  knew  it  and  I  made 
use  of  it.  I  set  a  screen  up  by  the  pianer  and  tied 
Pluto  behind  it  an'  'gaged  sister  Emily  to  play  one  of 
her  loud  lessons  at  the  right  time.  I  knew  that  would 
make  the  dog  howl.  Pa  says  it's  'nough  to  make 
Rome  howl.  I  gave  the  sign  to  both  of  'em.  Emily 
played  an'  counted  an'  Pluto  howled,  good  and 
plenty,  just's  tho'  he  was  chasin'  so' thin'.  Liza  come 
on  with  her  baby,  what  was  Emily's  chiner  doll.  She 
come  on  from  the  kitchen  an'  made  for  the  river.  I 
worked  three  days  on  the  river.  I  sawed  off  two- 
by-fours  into  blocks  an'  chalk'd  'em  all  over,  just  like 


126  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

ice,  an'  I  set  'em  the  length  of  my  step  apart,  clean 
across  stream.  I  never  noticed  it,  but  that  yellow 
cat  follered  Liza.  Willie  Walker  sat  on  a  front  seat, 
an'  when  he  seen  her  he  hollered,  'Get  onto  the  blood- 
houn',  will  yer !'  and  everybody  laughed.  Pluto  saw 
the  cat  an'  the  cat  saw  him,  an'  she  ran  acrost  the 
stage  with  her  brush  up  and  upset  all  the  ice  in  the 
Ohio  River.  Pluto  tugged  hard  to  get  at  her,  pulled 
the  screen  over  onto  my  girl's  ma,  barked,  an'  made 
rushes  at  the  cat." 

"Let  me  tell  some,"  said  Sam,  anxious  to  get  into 
the  narrative. 

"Yes,  I  guess  it's  fairly  Sammy's  turn  now,"  said 
Arabella. 

"I — I  wish  I  could  just  finish  this,"  said  Ben. 

"That's  most  of  it,  already,"  said  Sam.  "We'd 
give  the  cook  ten  cents  and  a  old  pair  of  gaiters  to  do 
it.  She'd  been  acrost  three  times  all  right  in  the 
'hearsal,  but  'twa'n't  so  easy  when  the  ice  was 
scat' red.  She  made  a  bad  mess  of  it.  She  stept  onto 
one  of  'em  floatin'  cakes  an'  reached  out  'tother 
gaiter  for  the  next  one,  but  just  touched  her  toe  to 
it.  She  slipt  an'  fell.  Such  a  spill  you  never  seen ! 
She  fell  in  the  river,  an'  Ben  called  out,  'Swim  out, 
Lize !  Swim  out — don't  get  up !'  She  tried  to  do  it, 
an'  made  her  legs  an'  arms  go  just's  though  she's 
doin'  it — just  like  a  crab.  She  held  her  baby  up  so 
't  wouldn't  drown.  Emily  saw  then  its  head  was 
broke  off,  an'  she  cried  out  loud,  fairly  squalled.  That 
yellow  cat  jumped  up  on  the  cook's  back  for  safety/' 

"To  keep  out  of  the  water,  I  suppose,"  interposed 
Arabella. 


THE    HEATHEN    GET    A    BENEFIT  127 

"No,  to  get  away  from  Ben's  dog.  She  arched 
up  her  back  an'  spit  ,ugly  at  Pluto,  an'  the  folks 
laughed  an'  hollered  until  some  of  'em  cried.  Ben 
rushed  over  to  pick  the  screen  off'n  his  girl  an'  her 
ma,  to  be  a  hero.  It  caught  in  their  hair,  somehow, 
an'  Ben  nearly  sna'ch'd  his  girl's  ma  bald-headed. 
He  jerked  her  wig  clean  off.  I  was  pullin'  the 
curt'in,  to  part  Pluto  from  the  cat,  an'  it  wouldn't 
work.  It  was  stuck — off  its  wheel,  I  guess.  Every- 
body yelled  again,  louder  an'  louder.  Ben's  buf'lo- 
robe  whiskers  fell  down  when  he  started  bawlin',  an' 
such  a  rackit  I  never  heard  afore.  Ben's  ma  couldn't 
stop  him,  or  Emily  either.  It  made  Pluto  excited, 
worse'n  ever,  an'  he  tore  loose  an'  rushed  upon  the 
stage,  an'  wound  'round  Liza  an'  the  cat  with  his 
laryat  draggin'.  Liza  ast  me  if  she  could  get  up 
now,  an'  I  said  she  could,  but  she  couldn't.  She 
was  wound  up  in  the  rope,  an'  we  couldn't  tell 
whether  Pluto,  Liza,  or  the  cat  had  the  best  of  it. 
I  never  seen  folks  laugh  so  loud.  Ben's  pa  said  he 
nearly  split,  an'  said  we  owed  him  for  a  busted 
'spender.  Ben  was  never  so  mad  afore.  He  wouldn't 
let  his  ma  put  a  hand  on  him.  He  just  stood,  an' 
stomped,  an'  bellered.  Emily  was  just  as  mad,  only 
worse.  Their  ma  stepped  out  to  the  stage  an'  said 
she  guessed  'twas  her  duty  to  'nounce  that,  owin'  to 
some  things  not  on  the  pro-grum,  she  felt  'bliged 
to  'clare  the  'formance  at  an  end.  She  smiled  when 
she  done  it.  Ben's  pa  sent  him  an'  Emily  to  bed,  an' 
they  was  stompin'  an'  yell  in'  all  the  way  upstairs,  and 
the  folks  all  heard  'em.  When  I  come  away  I  heard 


128  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

some  one  saying'  so'thin'  about  their  gettin'  'rain 
checks.' ' 

"I'm  sure  the  people  had  the  worth  of  their 
money,"  observed  Arabella. 

"Well,  we  kept  it,  anyway,"  said  Ben. 

"Ben's  best  girl  wouldn't  speak  to  him  in  Sunday- 
school,  though,"  said  Sam.  "I  guess  it's  all  ended 
'tween  'em." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  ROBBER  CAUGHT 

I'd  rather  bring  up  a  boy  o'  mine  in  a  big  city  than  in  a 
small  village  every  time.  There's  some  decent  things  to  en- 
tertain him  and  some  good  boys  for  him  to  chum  with  in  a  city. 
In  a  country  town  it's  different. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  Foreign  Missions'  fund  was  ahead  just  one 
dollar  and  ten  cents  by  reason  of  the  performance, 
and  Benny  was  permitted  to  drop  the  money  into 
the  missions  box  with  his  own  hand,  and  in  the 
presence  of  Sammy.  The  boys  thought  they  would 
be  ashamed  to  keep  the  money  for  anything  else  but 
the  heathen,  and  as  Mrs.  Hopkins  constantly  re- 
ferred to  the  performance  as  something  "utterly 
heathenish,"  they  saw  some  appropriateness  in  it. 

At  the  end  of  the  month  Arabella  emptied  the 
box  with  a  view  to  banking  its  contents.  She  count- 
ed the  cash  and  found  there  was  just  one  dollar  and 
ten  cents  in  all.  She  knew  the  box  had  been  robbed. 
There  had  been  four  regular  meetings  of  the  society 
since  she  last  deposited  the  funds,  and  she  had  at- 
tended three  of  them.  The  ladies  had  contributed 
as  freely  as  ever,  and  she  had  given  a  dime  each  time 
herself.  She  questioned  Simmons  about  it,  and  he 
protested  he  had  never  known  where  the  box  was 
kept,  even.  He  said  he  had  caught  Jud  Boggs  and 


13°  A    STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

three  other  boys  playing  cards  in  one  of  the  horse 
sheds  they  had  broken  into,  and  "mebbe  Jud  had  se- 
cured his  father's  key  to  the  church  and  robbed  the 
box."  He  thought  Jud  Boggs  was  none  too  good 
to  do  it,  and  he'd  seen  people  who  said  he  smoked 
cigarettes,  and  any  boy  who'd  smoke  cigarettes  would 
steal.  Arabella  was  almost  ready  to  agree  with  him, 
and  was  disposed  to  suspect  Jud.  She  reasoned  that 
Jud  knew  how  much  the  entertainment  netted  and 
that  he  would  be  cute  enough  to  leave  at  least  that 
sum  in  the  box ;  that  he  was  playing  poker,  and  un- 
doubtedly was  using  the  money  in  the  game.  She 
wondered  how  long  he  had  been  gambling  and 
whether  or  not  he  had  stolen  before.  Possibly  his 
employer  had  suspected  him  of  stealing  and  the  fact 
accounted  for  his  being  no  longer  employed  inside 
the  store.  She  determined  to  know  the  truth.  Try 
as  best  she  could  she  was  unable  to  secure  an  inter- 
view with  Adoniram.  He  avoided  her  as  he  would 
a  rattlesnake,  and  she  construed  this  as  an  evidence 
of  guilt,  although  he  had  always  done  so. 

Two  weeks  passed  and  a  dark  Friday  night  came. 
Arabella  was  supposed  to  have  gone  home,  but 
changed  her  plans  after  starting — it  looked  so  much 
like  rain — and  returned  to  her  room.  She  noticed 
the  key  to  the  kindergarten  was  missing  from  the 
nail  where  she  usually  placed  it,  and  concluded  she 
had  carelessly  left  it  in  the  door.  She  went  down 
and  asked  Sammy  if  he  would  accompany  her  to  the 
class-room,  and  he  kindly  consented.  They  had  turn- 
ed upon  the  walk  leading  to  the  side  entrance,  when 


THE  ROBBER   CAUGHT  13! 

they  saw  some  one  unlock  the  door  and  enter  the 
kindergarten. 

"It  looks  'zactly  like  Jud,"  said  Sammy.  "It's 
about  his  size." 

"Yes,"  said  Arabella,  "I  think  it  is.  I  forgot  that 
I  was  expecting  him.  If  you  don't  mind  I'll  let  you 
go  back  now,  and  I'll  ask  your  brother  to  walk  home 
with  me.  We  may  want  to  stay  beyond  your  bed 
time.  There,  that's  a  little  man;  don't  be  jealous, 
you  know  I  like  you  the  best." 

Sammy  was  not  expecting  this,  and  showed  con- 
siderable disappointment,  but  yielded  and  started  for 
home.  Arabella  remained  outside  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, keeping  close  up  under  the  windows.  Then 
she  quietly  opened  the  door,  that  had  purposely  been 
left  slightly  ajar,  entered  the  kindergarten  in  the 
dark,  and  took  a  position  near  the  door  leading  to 
the  audience-room.  She  heard  the  intruder  driving 
small  nails,  with  the  back  of  a  knife  she  thought; 
heard  him  close  a  drawer  and  come  toward  her.  He 
had  a  chair  to  assist  in  climbing  the  gate,  and  as  he 
jumped  over  and  turned  to  raise  the  chair  behind 
him,  Arabella  caught  him  around  the  body,  held  his 
arms  fast  to  his  sides,  and  said : 

"Jud  Boggs,  I  have  known  you  were  up  to  this  for 
some  time.  Now  I  shall  expect  a  clean  and  full  ex- 
planation and  shall  accept  no  falsehoods." 

Jud  struggled  to  get  loose,  but  all  his  efforts  were 
in  vain.  He  said  he  had  business  of  his  own  in  the 
church  and  would  permit  no  one  to  question  him 
about  it,  or  to  interfere  with  him  either.  He  said 
something  about  losing  a  gold  pin  the  day  he  helped 


132  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

save  Rose  Wilson ;  but  when  Arabella  said  he  could 
much  easier  look  for  it  in  the  light  than  in  the  dark, 
and  that  he  had  not  even  struck  a  match  in  his 
search,  he  saw  he  had  not  had  much  time  in  which 
to  frame  an  excuse.  The  more  he  tried  the  worse  he 
floundered. 

Arabella  gave  assurances  that  she  was  his  friend 
and  should  detain  him  only  for  his  good,  and  that  it 
might  be  far  better  for  him  to  remain  without  re- 
straint and  hear  what  she  had  to  say  than  to  break 
away  and  leave  her.  Jud  promised  to  stay  and  hear 
what  she  had  to  say  for  her  rudeness. 

"Come  and  sit  with  me  then,"  said  she.  "I  must 
detain  you  some  time  and  must  talk  freely.  I  will 
not  light  a  lamp,  as  I  consider  it  is  best  our  presence 
here  shall  be  unknown.  I  will  use  plain  words.  I 
know  three  things  about  you,  Jud,  that  I  wish  were 
not  true.  I  know  you  to  be  a  liar,  a  gambler,  and  a 
thief.  It's  a  terrible  arraignment,  and  no  doubt  you 
feel  like  resenting  it.  I  do  not  believe  you  to  be 
hardened,  depraved,  or  beyond  redemption.  You 
are  a  kind-hearted  boy,  easily  influenced,  and  have 
yielded.  I  have  wanted  to  talk  with  you  about  it  for 
some  time,  ever  since  I  first  saw  you  and  knew  you 
smoked  cigarettes,  but  you  have  avoided  me  for 
some  reason." 

"I  don't  smoke  cigarettes  any  more,  not  since  I 
read  that  book  that  had  your  name  in  it." 

"I  know  you  gave  them  up  some  time  ago  and  that 
you  are  now  smoking  a  briar-wood  pipe,"  was  the  re- 
sponse to  this. 

"You  seem  to  know  all  about  me." 


THE   ROBBER    CAUGHT  133 

"I  know  you  can  make  a  frank,  honest,  splendid 
man  of  yourself  if  you  will  begin  at  once — begin 
now  and  here.  You  cannot  delay  the  start  long,  in 
my  judgment.  The  fact  of  your  giving  up  cigar- 
ettes shows  you  have  will  power,  and  sufficient  to 
resist  when  your  companions  continue  smoking  the 
deadly  things." 

"And  do  you  know  about  the  other  boys,  too, 
same  as  you  know  about  me,  Miss  Somers  ?" 

"I  know  considerable  about  some  of  them,  but  I 
do  not  care  to  talk  of  them  or  to  dwell  on  the  past. 
I  want  to  talk  of  the  future.  I  want  to  know  what 
you  propose  to  do  to  change  your  own  and  the  con- 
dition of  other  young  men  in  Batesville." 

Adoniram  was  loath  to  believe  Arabella  really 
knew  much  about  him  or  his  chums ;  he  thought  she 
was  guessing,  or  "bluffing,"  merely  to  draw  him 
out,  and  insisted  upon  knowing  just  what  she  knew. 
He  was  fully  satisfied  a  little  later,  and  as  he  be- 
came so  he  broke  down  completely  and  cried  like  a 
child.  He  opened  his  heart  to  Arabella,  declared  she 
was  the  only  person  on  earth  who  had  ever  taken  an 
interest  in  him,  who  had  ever  offered  to  help  him, 
or  who  had  given  him  a  word  of  encouragement; 
said  his  father  had  always  flogged  him  for  the  least 
little  things  he  did  and  many  times  for  things  he 
had  not  done,  and  until  he  fairly  hated  him;  that 
his  mother  had  been  too  busy  to  care  for  him  much, 
and  told  how  everybody  in  town  had  seemed  anxious 
to  pick  on  him  because  he  was  a  minister's  son.  In 
the  course  of  the  talk  he  said : 


134  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

"There's  nothing  a  fellow  can  do  in  this  town, 
Miss  Somers.  It's  dead — the  dullest,  dryest,  tamest 
old  hole  in  all  creation ;  never  anything  going  on,  no 
place  to  go,  no  excitement,  not  even  life  enough  for 
a  Fourth  of  July  celebration.  There  isn't  a  ball 
ground  or  a  race  track  within  the  county  that  I  know 
of;  there  isn't  a  shuffle-board,  bowling-alley — noth- 
ing to  do  anything  with.  The  old  men  play  croquet 
down  by  the  Liberty  pole,  that  hasn't  had  a  flag  on 
it  for  three  years,  not  since  Lee's  surrender;  and 
some  others  pitch  quoits  down  by  the  blacksmith's 
shop ;  but  there's  nothing  for  boys.  There's  no  place 
to  fish  within  ten  miles,  and  no  swimming  hole 
within  five  miles,  and  the  hook-and-ladder  company 
has  disbanded  and  the  wagon  is  held  by  Fisher  as 
security  for  repairs.  There's  no  place  for  a  boy  to 
go  but  to  church  and  to  a  church  picnic  once  a  year, 
where  we  have  to  hear  some  one  preach  an  hour, 
sing  an  hour,  and  pray  some  before  we  can  eat. 
When  we  played  hide-and-seek  around  the  horse- 
sheds  they  put  doors  on  them  and  locked  them  up. 
The  teacher  forbade  us  the  use  of  the  school  ground 
after  hours,  and  the  curfew  rings  at  eight-thirty  to 
shut  off  our  'pom-pull-away.'  If  we  played  harmless 
tricks, — that  is,  if  I  did, — I  was  sure  to  be  whipped 
for  it.  No  shows  ever  come  to  town,  there's  no  place 
for  them.  A  circus  came  once,  the  only  one  that  ever 
did  come,  and  I  ran  away  and  went  to  it,  stole  under, 
and  was  thrashed  for  it.  Will  you  please  tell  me, 
Miss  Somers,  what  on  earth  there  is  in  Batesville  for 
a  boy?" 


THE   ROBBER    CAUGHT  135 

This  was  a  view  of  the  situation  Arabella  had  not 
even  thought  of,  and  the  more  she  looked  at  it  the 
more  charitable  she  became,  until  she  found  herself 
deeply  in  sympathy  with  the  young  man.  Jud  made 
a  clean  breast  of  it  and  acknowledged  everything — 
enough  to  have  insured  his  imprisonment  if  acknowl- 
edged in  court,  and  he  realized  it.  Arabella  dwelt 
upon  this  phase  of  the  situation  at  length,  but  always 
reached  the  same  conclusion.  Only  those  directly 
wronged  should  know  it,  full  restitution  should  be 
made,  and  a  new  life  should  at  once  be  entered  upon. 
Jud  was  to  go  straight  to  Mr.  Hooker,  tell  him 
everything,  make  arrangements,  if  possible,  to  con- 
tinue in  his  employ  until  the  amount  of  the  pecula- 
tions were  made  good,  and  beg  his  full  forgiveness 
and  an  opportunity  to  prove  the  reformation  was 
genuine. 

Jud  said  he  had  only  stolen  from  the  missionary 
box  since  the  day  Arabella  suggested  just  how  it 
might  be  done  without  any  one's  knowing  it,  and 
since  Hooker  placed  him  back  upon  the  wagon, 
where  he  had  no  opportunity  to  steal  from  him.  He 
thought  five  dollars  would  more  than  cover  it,  and 
anyhow  he  would  be  glad  to  pay  back  that  much. 
He  began  playing  cards  nearly  a  year  before,  but  had 
played  poker  for  money  only  since  his  promotion 
from  the  wagon.  He  had  been  a  constant  loser,  and 
mostly  to  Deaney,  whom  he  declared  to  be  a  "card 
shark,"  and  who  had  learned  the  game  while  selling 
papers  in  Rochester. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  Arabella  and  Jud  left 
the  kindergarten.  The  money  had  been  returned  to 


I36  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

the  mission  box,  each  had  pledged  secrecy  to  the 
other,  preliminary  plans  had  been  made  for  the  or- 
ganizing of  a  young  men's  club,  Jud  had  promised  to 
bring  Deaney,  Babcock,  and  Brewer  with  him  to  the 
class-room  to  meet  Arabella  and  talk  it  over,  and  the 
details  of  the  confession  to  Hooker  were  outlined. 

That  was  the  happiest  night  Arabella  ever  spent  in 
the  parsonage,  although  she  laid  awake  with  new 
thoughts  and  new  schemes  the  greater  portion  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  FULL  CONFESSION 

If  you  have  a  prop'sition  to  spring  upon  a  man  you're  in 
luck  to  catch  him  when  he's  feelin'  good.  I've  seen  a  miser 
give  a  whole  dollar  for  a  new  meetin'-house  just  after  he'd 
had  a  tooth  pulled. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

\ 

Hiram  Hooker  was  talking  over  with  Arabella  the 

incident  of  his  granddaughter's  rescue  from  the  bap- 
tistry, when  he  said : 

"I  have  wanted  to  reward  those  Boggs  boys  in 
some  way,  but  I  do  not  know  how  to  reward  one 
without  doing  something  equally  as  good  for  the 
other,  and  my  conscience  won't  let  me  do  anything 
for  that  boy  Jud.  He's  a  bad  boy,  Miss  Somers, 
and  I  have  known  it  for  some  time,  but  I've  not  had 
the  heart  to  say  so  to  his  father.  The  Doctor  doesn't 
seem  to  have  success  in  dealing  with  his  boys." 

"I  have  also  known  it  for  some  time,"  said  Ara- 
bella,— "ever  since  I  went  to  the  parsonage  to  live, — 
and  it  has  been  more  strikingly  revealed  to  me  of 
late.  I  have  only  known  for  a  day  or  two  that  he 
has  been  stealing  from  you,  and  I  concluded  that 
you  knew  it  and  that  was  why  you  placed  him  back 
upon  the  wagon." 

"And  pray  tell  how  have  you  learned  all  this  ?" 


I38  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

"Jud  has  made  a  full  confession  to  me,  Mr.  Hook- 
er, and,  although  I  am  pledged  to  secrecy  regarding 
it  and  he  is  seeking  an  opportunity  to  confess  to  you 
and  beg  your  mercy,  I  think  it  is  my  duty  to  talk 
with  you  concerning  it.  There  are  other  bad  boys 
in  Batesville,  Mr.  Hooker,  and  a  proposition  is  in- 
volved that  seems  to  me  far  more  vital  than  the  guilt 
of  Judson  Boggs  and  how  it  is  to  be  dealt  with.  That 
is,  what  are  we  going  to  do  for  the  young  men  of 
Batesville?" 

Then,  before  she  fairly  realized  it,  Arabella  was 
giving  Mr.  Hooker  a  detailed  account  of  her  resi- 
dence in  the  parsonage,  with  her  personal  observa- 
tions there ;  of  the  visit  to  "Red  Jacket's  Roost,"  the 
robbery  of  the  missions  fund,  Jud's  full  confession, 
and  of  the  plans  already  formulating  for  something 
to  entertain,  instruct,  and  save  the  growing  boys  of 
the  place. 

Hooker  was  so  interested  that  he  never  once  in- 
terrupted the  speaker,  and  he  found  himself  squarely 
in  line  before  she  had  finished. 

"By  George!"  said  he,  "there's  that  vacant  hall 
over  the  store.  The  Odd  Fellows  couldn't  hold  to- 
gether in  the  town,  and  it  hasn't  been  used  for  two 
years  and  probably  wouldn't  be  for  the  next  two.  It's 
over  the  corner.  It  has  a  covered  outside  stairway, 
as  you  know;  it  has  plenty  of  light,  the  walls  are 
good,  the  floors  are  deadened,  and  there  are  recep- 
tion-rooms and  coat-rooms — everything  that's  right 
for  a  young  men's  club.  They  could  use  the  lodge- 
room  for  a  gymnasium  if  they  wanted  to.  If  you'll 
take  this  thing  in  hand,  Miss  Somers,  I'll  give  the 


A   FULL    CONFESSION  139 

use  of  that  upper  floor  for — for  two  years,  or  five 
years,  or  indefinitely;  and  I'll  give  a  hundred  to- 
ward fitting  it  up." 

"How  about  Jud  ?"  asked  Arabella. 

"Oh,  I'll  manage  that  all  right.  I  see  that  you 
feel  he  is  penitent  and  anxious  to  turn  over  a  new 
leaf.  Please  say  nothing  about  our  talk  until  he  has 
seen  me." 

"That's  as  much  my  desire  as  it  is  your  own,"  was 
Arabella's  assurance.. 

In  a  few  days  an  opportunity  presented  for  Jud  to 
have  a  word  with  Mr.  Hooker,  and  an  interview  was 
arranged  for  the  evening,  and  in  the  merchant's 
home.  When  the  time  came  and  they  were  alone  in 
the  library,  Jud  said : 

"I  come  to  you,  Mr.  Hooker,  to  bare  my  breast  to 
you;  to  tell  you  a  clean  story  and  to  throw  myself 
upon  your  mercy.  I  am  a  liar,  a  gambler,  and  a 
thief — that  is,  I  have  been  all  these,  but  I  am  deter- 
mined to  never  be  either  again." 

With  this  as  a  starter  he  related  the  history  of  his 
shortcomings,  including  the  incident  with  Mrs.  Cross 
when  he  was  frustrated  in  one  attempt  to  steal,  but 
did  lie;  the  story  of  the  robbery  of  the  mission  box, 
and  everything.  He  had  nothing  he  wished  to  con- 
ceal, and  so  assured  his  employer.  Mr.  Hooker 
appeared  to  be  surprised,  but  finally  acknowledged 
he  knew  about  his  peculations  in  the  store,  and  said 
that  was  the  reason  why  he  had  been  placed  back 
upon  the  wagon. 

Jud  had  figured  up,  as  near  as  he  could,  and  the 
easiest  from  his  losses  at  poker,  that  he  had  stolen 


14°  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

something  more  than  thirty  and  something  less,  he 
thought,  than  forty  dollars;  and  although  he  had 
shown  himself  to  be  absolutely  unworthy  of  confi- 
dence, he  begged  to  be  permitted  to  retain  his  place 
until  the  sum  had  been  made  good  to  his  employer. 

The  two  talked  plainly  for  two  hours,  and  Mr. 
Hooker  was  not  sparing  in  good  advice  or  whole- 
some warnings  and  illustrations.  Jud  set  up  no 
extenuating  claims  and  nothing  was  said  about  the 
plans  formulated  with  Arabella.  Mr.  Hooker  took 
Jud's  hand  and  said : 

"Judson,  you  are  a  boy  of  ability  and  good  parts, 
and  have  shown  some  manliness  in  this.  I  am  going 
to  give  you  a  chance.  I  am  going  to  offer  it  to  you 
in  a  way  that  will  test  your  mettle.  I  am  going  to 
take  you  back  into  the  store  on  probation.  You  can 
readily  realize  that  if  there  are  discrepancies  in  the 
accounts  you  will  at  once  be  under  suspicion.  If 
you  behave  yourself  and  prove  yourself  worthy  of 
confidence  you  will  be  fully  trusted  and  will  be  given 
promotions  your  abilities  deserve.  I  will  keep  you 
one  year  at  your  present  salary,  and  if  at  the  end  of 
the  year  you  have  proved  true  to  your  resolutions, 
you  may  consider  you  have  paid  me  one  dollar  each 
week  and  that  your  debt  is  cancelled  and  your  pen- 
alty complied  with.  Then,  if  you  care  to  remain 
with  me,  you  will  have  a  substantial  increase  in 
salary.  You  will  have  a  friend  in  me  so  long  as  you 
care  to  do  right.  You  may  come  back  inside  on 
Monday.  It  is  my  judgment  that  this  talk  and  the 
facts  you  have  related  concerning  yourself  remain  a 
secret  between  us.  Batesville  is  a  small  place  and  it 


A   FULL    CONFESSION  141 

would  take  some  time  for  you  to  live  down  prejudice 
here,  while  correct  living  is  slow  of  recognition. 
Your  conscience  has  punished  you,  and  I  hope  suffi- 
ciently." 

Jud  told  Mr.  Hooker  there  was  just  one  other 
person  who  knew  all  about  it,  but  he  was  sure  she 
desired  to  and  would  keep  it  a  secret. 

"There  never  was  a  woman  in  Batesville  like  that 
Miss  Somers,"  said  Hooker.  "There's  no  telling 
what  she  would  do  if.  she  had  money.  I  hear  some 
of  the  gossips  going  on  about  her  because  she  has 
such  a  liking  for  boys,  but  they  get  a  piece  of  my 
mind  every  time  I  hear  any  of  it.  She's  not  going 
to  run  away  with  any  of  the  boys  she's  taken  an 
interest  in ;  and  as  for  that  man  Fairbanks,  she's  too 
much  sense  to  think  twice  of  him,  and  I'll  wager 
now  she  has  some  good  object  in  permitting  him  to 
walk  home  from  church  with  her.  If  this  town  is 
wise  it  will  stop  talking  about  a  woman  like  that." 

Jud  wished  to  tell  some  of  the  good  things  he 
knew  about  Miss  Somers,  but  only  said  in  parting: 

"She's  a  woman  I'll  fight  for  so  long  as  I  live." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  YOUNG  MEN^S  CLUB 

I  guess  some  men  reform  because  it  gives  them  an  oppor- 
tunity to  tell  folks  what  splendid  spec'mens  of  depravity  they 
once  were,  and  what  heroes  they've  become  by  leavin'  their 
old  haunts  an'  vices. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  four  young  men  and  Arabella  were  having 
frequent  sessions  now,  sometimes  in  her  room  at  the 
parsonage  and  sometimes  in  the  kindergarten.  They 
were  making  plans  for  organizing  a  young  men's 
association,  writing  the  constitution  and  by-laws, 
and  deciding  upon  furnishings  and  equipment  for 
its  rooms.  The  boys  had  never  been  so  interested 
in  anything  in  all  their  lives.  Mr.  Hooker  met  with 
them  once  or  twice  and  took  upon  himself  the  re- 
sponsibility of  presenting  the  matter  to  the  five  pas- 
tors of  the  village.  They  were  upon  -the  subject  of 
a  name  when  Joe  Brewer  said : 

"I  don't  believe  in  calling  it  a  'Young  Men's 
Christian  Association/  as  no  one  of  us  four  makes  a 
profession  of  Christianity;  and  besides  that,  Earl 
Fairbanks  is  a  Christian,  and  if  he's  a  good  one  I 
don't  want  to  be  one.  He's  everlastingly  telling 
folks  in  public  he  was  once  a  gambler.  He's  always 
describing  gilded  palaces  of  sin,  the  allurements  of 
the  saloon  and  the  dance-hall;  the  glittering  glories 


THE   YOUNG    MEN*S   CLUB  143 

of  glass  chandeliers;  bespangled,  bejeweled,  and 
gaudily-painted  fairies ;  pictures  of  nude  women  and 
other  bewildering  enticements  of  the  gaming  halls; 
telling  how  he  was  early  led  into  them,  how  he  spent 
his  substance  in  them,  and,  after  such  descriptions, 
advising  other  young  men  to  steer  clear  of  them.  I 
never  wanted  to  go  into  a  saloon  until  I'd 
heard  him  telling  how  gorgeously  they  were  fitted 
up  to  catch  young  men.  I  think  a  boy  with  any 
gumption  at  all  in  him,  who  never  thought  of  such 
a  thing  before,  would  surely  go  if  he  once  heard 
Fairbanks  tell  about  them.  I  couldn't  keep  from 
thinking  of  them  and  longing  to  see  the  inside  of 
one  of  them  after  I  had.  The  first  time  I  went  to 
Rochester  I  found  myself  hunting  for  'a  gilded 
palace  of  sin'  most  of  the  time.  No  power  could 
keep  me  out  after  hearing  Fairbanks." 

'  'Twas  the  same  way  with  me,  too,"  said  Deaney. 
"When  I  ran  away  and  went  to  Rochester  I  was 
mighty  glad  to  sell  papers  because  it  gave  me  a 
chance  to  get  into  the  places  I'd  heard  Fairbanks  de- 
scribe, and  I  got  into  several  that  didn't  have  much 
gilding  on,  I  can  tell  you.  I  got  the  gambling  fever, 
too;  first  began  shooting  craps  with  the  gang  and 
then  to  playing  cards,  and  comforted  myself  that  I 
might  some  day  have  a  chance  to  tell  about  it,  just  as 
Fairbanks  does.  I  can't  bear  him  now,  though,  not 
a  little  bit." 

"I  can't  bear  him,  either,"  said  Milt  Babcock. 
"He  seems  to  think  himself  just  a  little  better  Chris- 
tian than  any  one  else  because  he  was  once  so  bad, 


144  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

and  has  seen  so  much  of  the  inside  of  sin.  No,  let's 
call  it  anything  else  but  a  'Christian  association.' ' 

"I  am  willing  to  give  my  guarantee  that  Mr.  Fair- 
banks will  never  relate  any  part  of  that  story  again," 
said  Arabella.  "He  sees  now  what  a  great  mistake 
it  was  and  has  promised  to  never  refer  to  the  dark 
side  of  his  life  hereafter.  He  has  taken  a  deep 
interest  in  the  plan  to  organize  a  club  and  has  been 
around  with  a  subscription  paper  already.  I  think 
you  will  find  he  knows  considerable  about  athletics, 
and  especially  gymnasium  work,  and  that  he  can  be 
of  valuable  assistance  to  us.  He  has  made  up  a  list 
of  things  he  thinks  we  should  have  in  the  gym- 
nasium, and  says  by  all  means  we  should  have  a 
bowling-alley  at  one  side  and  some  'shuffle-boards/ 
whatever  they  may  be." 

"Well,  if  that's  the  case,  I  like  him  better  already," 
said  Brewer. 

"We  might  call  it  the  'Fairbanks  Club,'  "  said 
Deaney. 

"No,  if  we're  going  to  name  it  after  a  person  I  am 
sure  I  would  prefer  the  'Hooker  Club,'  "  said  Jud. 

Babcock  said  he  thought  that  sounded  too  much 
like  'Hookey  Club,'  but  said  he  would  like  to  honor 
Mr.  Hooker  in  some  way,  he'd  been  so  generous  in 
the  matter. 

It  was  finally  decided  the  name  should  be  plainly 
and  simply  "The  Young  Men's  Club."  It  was 
organized  and  was  in  full  operation  by  the  time  the 
first  snow  fell,  and  Earl  Fairbanks  was  elected  presi- 
dent and  director,  offices  he  held  without  salary.  He 
was  an  unmarried  man  and  preferred  to  spend  his 


THE   YOUNG    MEN  S    CLUB  145 

evenings  at  the  club  rather  than  anywhere  else,  un- 
less it  was  in  Arabella's  company.  Classes  were 
organized  in  gymnasium  work,  and  the  younger 
boys  had  regular  hours  of  their  own  and  participated 
with  as  much  zeal  as  did  their  seniors.  The  old  men 
loved  to  drop  in  to  see  what  was  going  on,  and  were 
soon  planning  for  a  club  of  their  own.  The  girls 
seemed  jealous,  and  expressed  the  belief  that  their 
interests  were  being  overlooked.  Arabella  gave 
promise  that  one  afternoon  should  be  set  aside  for 
them  in  the  gymnasium  and  that  she  would  endeavor 
later  on  to  organize  the  young  women  of  all  denomi- 
nations into  an  association  that  should  combine 
pleasure  and  charity. 

Fairbanks  was  a  good  singer  and  had  been  edu- 
cated in  music.  He  organized  a  singing-school  and 
drilled  a  male  quartette  that  included  Jud  Boggs, 
Milt  Babcock,  and  John  Howard,  all  of  whom  were 
directly  or  indirectly  affiliated  with  the  Baptist 
Church.  The  quartette  was  frequently  called  upon, 
and  always  cheerfully  responded,  to  sing  at  special 
services,  at  funerals,  social  entertainments  of  various 
kinds,  and  in  the  club-room. 

Doctor  Boggs  was  the  only  pastor  Mr.  Hooker 
interviewed  who  was  wholly  and  absolutely  opposed 
to  the  club  idea.  Arabella  was  fearful  his  attitude 
would  be  hostile  and  so  had  not  revealed  any  of  the 
plans  to  him.  In  talking  with  Mr.  Hooker  upon  the 
subject  he  expressed  the  belief  that  children  should 
spend  all  their  evening  hours  at  home  and  could 
always  find  recreation  enough  within  their  own  door 
yards  if  they  only  thought  so.  He  had  always  given 


146  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

his  boys  a  half  holiday  on  Saturdays  and  permitted 
them  some  other  liberties,  but  congratulated  himself 
that  he  generally  knew  where  they  were,  and  the 
boys  generally  told  where  they  were  going. 

If  they  were  all  as  truthful  as  Adoniram  was  in 
saying  where  he  was  going  the  Sunday  afternoon 
he  played  poker  at  Red  Jacket's  Roost,  the  Doctor 
could  not  rely  implicitly  upon  these  advance  assur- 
ances. 

Just  what  he  expected  his  boys  to  do  at  home  to 
amuse  themselves  was  not  clearly  apparent.  For 
their  reading  matter  he  held  that  the  Bible,  carefully 
edited  stories  from  the  Bible,  and  Pilgrim's  Progress 
were  sufficient.  There  had  never  been  a  Mother 
Goose  or  Robinson  Crusoe  in  the  house.  Cinderella, 
Puss  in  Boots,  and  the  Arabian  Nights  were  re- 
garded as  so  many  devices  of  the  evil  one.  As  for 
toys,  there  were  none,  excepting,  perhaps,  such  as 
were  made  at  home,  like  Roger  Williams's  string  of 
empty  spools.  What  on  earth  there  was  for  a  flesh- 
and-blood  boy  to  do  in  the  Boggs  household  but  sit 
in  a  corner  and  suck  his  thumb,  or  read  the  Bible  and 
look  wise,  Mr.  Hooker  could  not  see,  Arabella  could 
not  see,  and  no  one  else  could  see  who  had  made 
observations  there.  The  staid  old  game  of  authors 
was  barred,  and  tiddle-de-winks  would  have  been 
considered  sacrilegious.  The  study  naturally  had 
no  attractions  for  them.  Out  of  a  family  of  ten 
children  just  three  of  the  offspring  remained  in  the 
parental  nest,  and  for  the  only  reason  that  they  were 
not  old  enough  to  fly  away.  All  the  older  boys  left 
home  before  they  were  fifteen  and  the  two  girls 


THE   YOUNG   MEN  S   CLUB  147 

before  they  were  seventeen.  The  pastor  and  his 
wife,  for  the  life  of  them,  could  not  tell  why  their 
children  had  not  turned  out  better.  They  were  none 
of  them  very  bad,  it  is  true,  but  not  one  of  them  had 
made  anything  like  the  success  in  life  they  had  antici- 
pated. There  was  not  a  church-goer  in  the  lot,  and 
both  of  the  girls  married  ungodly  men,  one  a  trainer 
and  breeder  of  fast  horses  and  the  other  a  bucket- 
shop  proprietor.  Two  of  the  boys  had  gone  West 
and  never  wrote  home,  so  their  parents  could  not 
even  locate  them.  As  for  the  others,  they  led  happy- 
go-lucky  lives,  roving  about  considerably,  never 
accumulating  anything,  knowing  little  or  nothing 
about  business,  and  caring  nothing  at  all  for  the 
church. 

There  is  not  much  wonder  that  the  head  of  such 
a  family  antagonized  the  organization  of  a  young 
men's  club,  as  he  did  from  the  very  start — from  the 
time  he  first  heard  of  it.  He  broached  the  subject 
to  Arabella  the  evening  of  the  day  Hooker  talked 
with  him,  and  said : 

"As  for  Judson,  I  have  no  further  jurisdiction 
over  him.  He  has  gone  for  himself,  and  if  he  desires 
to  join  such  an  organization,  knowing  my  wishes, 
he  can  do  so.  He  will  never  have  my  consent,  if  he 
asks  it.  I  know  his  disposition  too  well  to  say  abso- 
lutely he  cannot  belong.  He  would  leave  home,  just 
as  Charles  Spurgeon  did,  and  go  where  my  jurisdic- 
tion could  not  reach  him.  Sammy  is  young  enough 
yet,  thank  Providence,  to  come  under  his  parent's 
control.  He  cannot  be  a  member  of  the  club  or 
visit  its  rooms,  and  that  must  be  clearly  understood. 


I48  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

We  do  not  wish  our  boys  to  think  there  is  any  place 
better  than  their  own  home,  and  the  so-called  amuse- 
ments are  not  necessary  to  their  happiness." 

The  week  the  club's  doors  were  opened  Doctor 
Boggs  preached  a  strong  sermon  against  worldly 
pleasures  and  advised  the  parents  of  his  congrega- 
tion to  keep  their  sons  from  "the  institution  of  the 
Devil"  that  was  being  organized  in  their  midst.  It 
made  him  many  enemies  and  came  near  splitting  his 
congregation.  Some  of  the  men,  who  went  to 
church  occasionally  because  their  wives  were  mem- 
bers, and  who  were  liberal  contributors,  staid  away 
entirely  for  a  while  and  refused  to  contribute  for  the 
Doctor's  support  or  the  church  expenses.  Some 
others,  whose  religion  was  not  strong  enough  to  sus- 
tain them  through  one  dark  night,  left  their  sittings 
vacant  while  they  attended  other  churches.  Doctor 
Boggs  realized  all  that  was  taking  place,  but  rather 
gloried  in  it,  so  certain  was  he  that  he  was  in  the 
right,  and  that  time  would  clearly  reveal  the  fact. 
He  loved  to  discuss  the  question  with  Arabella,  and 
was  not  always  wise  in  choosing  the  time  and  place. 
Frequently  these  conversations  were  had  at  the  table, 
when  the  boys  always  sided  with  the  young  woman, 
and  Mrs.  Boggs  was  inclined  to.  This  so  worked 
upon  the  pastor  that  he  gradually  came  to  regard  the 
boarder  as  an  evil  influence  in  his  household,  and  he 
determined  it  was  best  to  get  rid  of  it. 

It  was  just  before  the  Christmas  holidays  that  he 
screwed  up  his  courage  sufficiently  to  tell  Arabella 
he  feared  her  influence  over  his  boys,  and  as  her 
works  were  contrary  to  his  teachings  and  beliefs,  he 


THE   YOUNG    MEN  S    CLUB  149 

felt  obliged  to  ask  her  to  seek  quarters  elsewhere. 
Arabella  was  expecting  as  much,  and  had  already 
partially  fortified  herself  against  the  evil  day.  She 
had  conditionally  engaged  accommodations  in  the 
residence  of  the  Howards. 

Doctor  Boggs  made  a  few  moves  as  though  he 
desired  to  deprive  the  young  woman  of  the  use  of 
the  class-room,  but  found  her  so  deeply  intrenched 
in  the  hearts  of  her  pupils  and  their  mothers  that  it 
would  be  a  losing  game,  and  so  abandoned  it.  Time 
and  time  again  he  sought  Deacon  Somers  and  talked 
the  matter  over  with  him,  and  every  time  the  deacon 
came  to  town  nearly  every  one  else  poured  his  ears 
full  of  the  wonderful  works  of  his  daughter.  It 
kept  the  good  old  farmer  pretty  busy  on  a  gridiron. 
At  times  he  knew  not  whether  his  daughter  was  an 
angel  or  a  witch,  a  doer  of  evil  deeds  or  a  real 
reformer.  He  was  not  a  little  troubled  and  per- 
plexed. 

Doctor  Boggs  was  resolute  and  stubborn,  and 
would  not  yield  an  ell  in  his  opinions. 

Arabella  was  diplomatic  and  patient.  She  made 
excuses  for  her  pastor,  admitted  the  club  was  an 
experiment,  and  kept  up  her  work  in  the  church  and 
society  with  ever-increasing  vigor.  Mr.  Hooker 
was  not  a  member  of  any  church,  but  his  wife  was 
a  Baptist,  and  as  they  had  no  boys  and  their  only 
daughter  had  developed  a  noble  woman,  Mrs. 
Hooker  rather  sided  with  her  pastor,  but  would  say 
little  owing  to  her  husband's  attitude  and  interests. 
Hooker  tried  to  hold  things  even  in  the  town.  His 
business  had  made  him  diplomatic  and  by  pursuing 


ISO  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

diplomatic  policies  he  had  thus  far  kept  all  formid- 
able rivals  out  of  the  field.  It  was  natural,  therefore, 
that  he  should  work  in  harmony  with  Miss  Somers 
to  preserve  the  equilibrium  of  the  community  and  to 
keep  the  Baptist  Church  from  going  to  pieces.  The 
two  disarmed  many  a  critic,  kept  many  of  the  reg- 
ular contributors  in  line,  and  looked  for  opportuni- 
ties to  better  the  club  and  its  members,  to  make  it 
an  institution  for  good  and  to  bring  just  recognition 
to  it.  They  were  strongly  supported  in  this  work 
by  Fairbanks,  who  was  inclined  to  be  a  trifle  head- 
strong, but  who  seemed  to  lead  well.  There  was  no 
longer  any  question  that  some  one  was  leading  him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ARRIVAL    OF    A    LION 

People  will  brag  in  broad  daylight  that  they  haven't  any 
cur'osity  in  their  make-up  who'll  go  around  ten  blocks  after 
dark  to  find  out  what  your  new  bonnet  cost. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

Doctor  Boggs's  oldest  brother  was  a  missionary 
to  China  under  the  auspices  of  the  American  Baptist 
Missionary  Union,  and  three  of  his  children,  born 
abroad,  had  been  sent  back  to  America  to  be  edu- 
cated. Wealthy  Baptists  in  the  New  England 
States  assumed  the  responsibility,  and  the  children 
were  adopted  into  homes  where  there  were  many 
luxuries  and  extravagances,  and  where  they  were 
freely  indulged  in  them.  Word  reached  the  Doctor 
that  the  oldest  of  his  brother's  children,  Abram 
Talcott  Boggs,  a  lad  the  age  of  his  Adoniram,  was 
coming  to  spend  the  Christmas  holidays  in  his 
household.  None  of  the  Batesville  Boggses  had 
ever  seen  any  of  the  missionary's  family,  and  great 
delight,  as  well  as  much  curiosity,  was  evinced  in 
advance  of  the  boy's  coming.  Indeed,  the  news  had 
been  pretty  generally  spread  throughout  the  village, 
and  the  curiosity  became  general.  There  were  not 
a  few  who  wondered  whether  or  not  a  missionary's 
boy  born  in  China  would  look  any  different  from  a 


I52  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

minister's  boy  born  in  the  United  States.  Many 
were  curious  to  see  a  boy  who  had  traveled  so  far; 
many  expressed  great  sympathy  for  him  because  he 
was  so  early  deprived  of  a  mother's  love  to  be  cast 
into  the  hands  of  strangers,  while  sundry  others 
were  curious  for  divers  reasons. 

As  Arabella  was  going  home  to  spend  Christmas 
week,  Mrs.  Boggs  obtained  her  consent  that  Abram 
Talcott  might  occupy  her  room. 

The  day  before  Christmas  a  swell  young  man  and 
three  large  trunks  came  on  the  stage  from  Chili 
Station,  and  the  outfit  was  safely  landed  at  the  par- 
sonage. You  could  easily  guess  such  an  event  did 
not  frequently  occur  in  Batesville.  The  census  of 
the  main  street  could  be  taken  by  a  count  of  heads 
displayed  at  windows  and  in  doorways,  from 
Hooker's  corner  to  the  pastor's  residence,  as  the 
stage  rolled  by. 

At  the  parsonage  everything  was  in  readiness  for 
a  hospitable  welcome.  A  woman  had  been  in  all 
the  morning  helping  Mrs.  Boggs  to  clean,  and  dust, 
and  scour,  and  bake.  The  family  was  sure  a  poor 
missionary's  boy  would  be  delighted  with  them  and 
would  be  surprised  at  their  comfortable  surround- 
ings. Doctor  Boggs  had  on  his  best  broadcloth 
coat  and  his  highest  stock;  Mrs.  Boggs  wore  her 
only  black  silk  and  her  whitest,  hand-embroidered 
apron;  Roger  Williams's  face  was  so  clean  it  shone, 
and  his  mother  carried  a  dampened  cloth  around 
with  her  to  insure  its  remaining  so  up  to  the  very 
last  minute;  Sammy  had  on  a  new  store  suit,  and 


ARRIVAL   OF   A   LION  153 

Jud  remained  fifteen  minutes  over  time  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  newcomer. 

Abram  Talcott  was  a  surprise.  A  first  view  proved 
their  efforts  were  fully  warranted.  He  was  attired 
in  a  top  coat  of  light-colored  corduroy  with  a  brown 
velvet  collar,  doeskin  trousers,  derby  hat,  pair  of 
patent  leathers,  and  real  kid  gloves.  The  moment 
his  coats  were  unbuttoned  a  fob  with  a  big  seal 
attached  came  into  view.  The  boys  thought  for  sure 
he  had  a  watch,  but  to  be  more  sure  Jud  acted  rest- 
less and  wondered  what  time  it  was  getting  to  be. 
Abram  drew  out  a  fine  gold  watch  and  told  him  to 
the  second.  Jud  asked  the  privilege  of  looking  at 
it,  and  he  admired  it  greatly.  He  envied  his  cousin 
far  more  than  he  dared  to  express.  The  members 
of  the  family  seemed  spell-bound  as  they  inspected 
the  visitor  from  top  to  toe  before  permitting  him  to 
remove  his  outer  garments  and  take  a  place  at  the 
table,  when  his  belated  dinner  was  served  him.  Jud 
reluctantly  tore  away,  while  the  others  sat  and 
watched  the  marvel  eat,  and  pressed  him  to  his  food. 

Sammy  was  chummy  from  the  start;  said  he'd 
helped  Miss  Somers  carry  up  her  trunks  and  unpack 
them  and  he'd  be  delighted  to  be  of  any  use.  He 
stood  and  eyed  his  cousin  while  he  ate,  and  managed 
to  feel  of  his  gloves,  rub  the  velvet  collar  with  his 
hand,  try  on  his  hat — all  behind  his  back — and  to 
tell  him  something  about  his  chum,  Benny,  and  their 
show. 

After  the  meal  the  Doctor,  Sam  and  Abram  car- 
ried the  heavy  trunks  up  to  the  front  room  and  un- 
strapped them.  Abram  said  he  felt  tired  from  travel 


154  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

and  guessed  he  would  leave  them  for  a  while,  but 
Sammy  and  the  Doctor  offered  to  help  him,  and 
Mrs.  Boggs  came  up  just  then  to  tender  her  services. 
Abram  opened  the  wonder  boxes  and  handed  the 
contents  to  his  assistants,  who  spread  them  upon  the 
bed,  the  floor,  and  everywhere,  seemingly  fearful 
all  would  not  be  revealed  to  them.  The  pastor  and 
his  wife  rolled  big  eyes  and  winked  big  winks  at 
each  other  many  times  as  they  handled  silk-lined 
garments  and  silk  underwear.  They  had  never 
handled  such  before.  Sammy  was  perfectly  bewil- 
dered; he  never  dreamed  such  nice  things  could  be 
made  for  a  boy.  Roger  Williams  showed  his  inter- 
est by  desiring  to  handle  many  of  the  curiosities,  and 
to  keep  him  quiet  and  to  give  her  a  better  opportun- 
ity to  be  useful,  his  mother  humored  him.  If  they 
had  been  as  many  sample  cases  from  a  boy's  outfit- 
ting establishment  they  could  not  have  held  more 
wearing  apparel.  There  were  six  full  suits  of 
clothes,  besides  seven  pairs  of  white  duck  trousers, 
odd  vests  and  a  rain  coat. 

What  on  earth  a  boy  wanted  of  white  duck 
trousers  in  the  winter  time  Mrs.  Boggs  could  not 
imagine.  Abram  said  he  brought  them  to  wear  at 
the  balls.  There  were  fencing  suits,  foot-ball  suits, 
masks,  foils,  boxing-gloves,  foot-balls,  eight  pairs 
of  shoes — some  patent  leathers,  some  canvas,  and 
some  with  big  spikes  in  their  soles.  There  were 
stacks  and  stacks  of  underwear  and  things  Abe 
called  "pajamases,"  neckties  of  many  shapes  and 
hues,  and  perfumery  and  toilet  articles  galore.  Mrs. 
Boggs  counted  and  tried  to  remember,  but  when  she 


ARRIVAL    OF    A    LION  155 

told  the  neighbors  about  it  some  of  them  thought 
she  was  "too  excited,"  or  was  "too  anxious  to  show 
off,"  and  that  she  must  have  counted  wrong. 

There  were  hockey  sticks  and  skates  that  were 
loose,  and  some  packages  that  looked  like  skates 
done  up,  and  these  Abram  tried  hard  to  keep  out  of 
Sammy's  sight.  A  traveler  from  the  fabled  store- 
houses of  Arabia  never  had  so  many  things  curious 
for  his  delighted  spectators.  Every  time  Mrs. 
Boggs  had  a  lady  caller  during  the  week,  and  Abe 
was  not  in,  she  would  take  her  up  to  the  front  room 
and  show  her  the  curiosities  and  talk  of  them  and 
her  wonderful  nephew.  Mrs.  Boggs's  lady  callers 
were  numerous  that  week. 

Abram  had  lots  of  things  he  said  ought  to  go 
direct  to  the  bath-room;  but  Mrs.  Boggs  said  the 
only  bath-room  they  had  was  a  wash  tub;  that  she 
always  gave  up  her  kitchen  every  Saturday  night  to 
it,  and  the  men  folks  all  took  their  baths  then,  and 
he  could  join  with  them,  if  he  liked. 

It  was  a  little  hard  for  Abram  to  get  accustomed 
to  the  parsonage  and  the  ways  of  his  relatives,  but 
he  repeatedly  insisted  that  everything  was  "deucedly 
jolly,"  everybody  "awfully  clevah,"  and  that  he  was 
having  a  "bang-up"  time. 

Doctor  Boggs  had  asked  his  nephew  to  go  down 
to  the  store  with  him,  that  he  might  show  him  off; 
Mrs.  Boggs  had  invited  him  to  go  with  her  over  to 
the  "Hopkinses,"  where  the  sewing  circle  met,  for  a 
like  purpose;  Jud  had  invited  him  to  the  club,  and 
Sammy  had  secured  the  privilege  of  sleeping  with 
him  before  he  had  been  in  the  parsonage  one  hour. 


156  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Abram  had  asked  about  foot-ball  and  hockey,  and 
whether  there  were  to  be  games  in  town  during 
Christmas  week;  had  asked  who  was  the  champion 
boxer,  the  best  fencer,  and  who  did  the  most  fancy 
things  on  skates ;  when  the  next  dancing-party  was 
coming  off;  if  the  boys  all  wore  pumps  and  swallow- 
tails, and  what  shows  were  billed — all  in  the  same 
hour.  Mrs.  Boggs  told  him  the  only  entertainments 
ahead  were  the  Christmas  tree  in  the  Methodist 
Church  that  very  night;  the  dedication  of  the  Free 
Methodist  Church  on  Thursday  night,  and  the  bap- 
tism of  several  young  girls  and  his  cousin  Adoniram 
in  the  Baptist  Church,  the  night  after  Christmas. 
Abram  told  Sammy  a  little  later  he  didn't  care  much 
for  the  "doins'  "  his  mother  had  told  about,  but  that 
he  had  some  new  skates  he'd  like  to  try  mighty  well 
if  there  was  any  skating;  that  he  had  learned  new 
fancy  tricks  and  could  spin  some  on  his  toes.  When 
Sammy  answered  that  there  was  never  any  good 
skating  in  Batesville,  only  a  little  sometimes  down  on 
"Duck  Pond,"  where  Harmon's  Creek  widened  out 
in  the  woods,  he  seemed  sadly  disappointed. 

The  next  day  was  the  day  of  the  Christ-child,  and 
it  dawned  bright  and  beautiful.  All  the  world 
appeared  to  be  singing  the  anthem  of  peace  and 
good-will.  It  was  the  happiest  Christmas  morning 
the  Boggs  household  had  ever  seen,  and  Doctor 
Boggs,  for  once  in  his  life,  seemed  in  full  accord 
and  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  day.  He  was 
up  early  with  the  boys,  and  was  as  eager,  anxious 
and  curious  as  any  to  explore  the  well-filled  stock- 
ings that  fringed  the  mantle-piece  in  the  sitting- 


ARRIVAL   OF   A   LION  157 

room.  Mrs.  Boggs,  too,  was  in  tune,  and  she  was 
on  hand  early,  and  held  the  yawning  Roger  in  her 
arms  before  the  fireplace.  Abram  had  brought  pres- 
ents for  every  member  of  the  family,  and  had  been 
permitted  to  assign  them  to  the  respective  stockings 
after  all  others  had  been  the  rounds.  As  can  easily 
be  imagined,  there  was  considerable  curiosity  to 
know  what  his  packages  contained. 

Roger  Williams,  who  had  never  before  been  per- 
mitted such  things,  received  a  new  rattle-box,  a  rab- 
bit stuffed  with  candy,  and  a  rubber  dollie — the  first 
and  second  from  Abram  and  the  last-named  from 
Arabella. 

Jud  and  Sammy  each  drew  a  pair  of  New 
England  skates,  with  long  steel  runners  set  in  pieces 
of  yellow  wood,  half-round,  well-strapped.  Sam 
had  guessed  them  when  the  trunks  were  unpacked. 

The  uncle  was  remembered  with  a  fine  morocco 
leather  portfolio  for  his  sermons,  and  the  aunt  with 
a  pair  of  tortoise-shell  opera  glasses,  things  she  had 
about  as  much  use  for  as  she  had  for  wings. 

Jud  found  a  solid  gold  watch  and  chain  deep  in 
his  stocking,  and  in  the  center  of  the  watch  dial  was 
a  small,  clear,  and  perfect  portrait  of  little  Rose 
Wilson.  He  knew  the  gift  was  from  the  girl's 
grandfather,  his  employer,  and  that  it  was  given  in 
recognition  of  his  services  at  the  time  of  the  accident 
to  Rose.  Sammy  found  a  big  envelope  that  con- 
tained a  piece  of  paper  with  a  spread  eagle  upon  it. 
It  said  there  had  been  deposited  to  his  credit,  in 
Henry  Wilson's  private  bank,  the  sum  of  one  hun- 
dred dollars,  to  draw  interest  that  was  to  be  com- 


IS8  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

pounded  semi-annually,  principal  and  interest  to  be 
his  when  he  became  of  age.  His  father  told  him 
it  was  from  Mr.  Hooker  and  because  he  took  Rose 
Wilson  from  the  baptistry.  Jud's  delight  knew  no 
bounds,  but  Sammy  did  not  fully  comprehend  a  gift 
that  was  to  come  to  him  when  he  was  a  man,  and 
was  more  downcast  than  elated.  He  was  not  at  all 
pleased,  either,  with  the  color  of  his  skates,  but  when 
Abe  told  him  that  could  easily  be  remedied  at  any 
paint  shop  he  felt  better  about  it.  He  decided  upon 
red. 

Jud  was  the  more  overjoyed  because  he  was  sure 
Mr.  Hooker  was  pleased  with  his  efforts  to  do  his 
very  best  since  being  taken  back  into  the  store.  He 
said  as  much  when  he  called  upon  his  employer  that 
morning  to  express  his  thanks.  It  was  a  memorable 
day  in  the  life  of  the  resolute  young  man. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

PUNISHMENT    AND    RETALIATION 

If,  while  disobeying  a  parent,  a  boy  is  nearly  drownded, 
half  frightened  to  death,  or  all  but  killed,  it  seems  unjust  that 
he  should  be  flogged  as  soon's  he  shows  up  at  home.  If  any 
one  should  double  up  on  me  in  that  manner  I'd  retaliate. — 

Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

i 

As  the  baptistry  in  the  Baptist  Church  was  kept 
full  of  water  in  the  summer  time,  to  prevent  it  from 
checking  and  leaking,  so  was  it  kept  dry  in  winter 
time,  that  freezing  water  might  not  swell  and 
destroy  it.  The  baptismal  services  in  the  Batesville 
church  were  more  frequent  in  winter  than  in  sum- 
mer, as  is  quite  apt  to  be  the  case  in  rural  communi- 
ties, and  this  necessitated  the  filling  of  the  reservoir 
whenever  the  ordinance  was  to  be  observed  in  cold 
weather.  It  was  no  little  task  to  do  this,  and  the 
Boggs  boys  realized  it,  for  they  always  had  it  to  do. 
Doctor  Boggs  also  realized  it,  and  so  adopted  the 
method  of  "bunching  his  hits,"  as  it  were — holding 
the  candidates  in  waiting  until  a  class  was  organized 
sufficiently  large  to  warrant  the  extraordinary  labor. 
The  Christmas  class  was  composed  chiefly  of  young 
ladies,  although  Judson  Boggs  had  recently  declared 
his  assurances  of  a  full  redemption  and  was  to  be 
led  by  his  father  into  the  baptismal  font.  The  store 


l6o  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

was  to  be  closed  all  day  on  Christmas,  and  Jud, 
assisted  by  his  brother  Sam,  was  to  spend  part  of 
the  afternoon  filling  the  great  tank  for  the  ceremony 
of  the  following  evening.  Jud  was  happy  this  time 
to  render  the  service,  although  he  declared  it  seemed 
to  him  much  like  making  the  arrangements  for  his 
own  funeral. 

The  boys  were  to  have  the  use  of  Hooker's  deliv- 
ery, were  to  fill  big  barrels  with  water  at  the  town 
pump,  and,  after  driving  to  the  side  window  nearest 
the  baptistry,  were  to  pour  the  water  through  a 
trough,  especially  constructed  for  the  purpose,  into 
its  receptacle.  They  knew  just  how  many  barrels  it 
would  take,  and  always  counted  as  they  filled  them ; 
sometimes  counted  the  pailfuls,  and  even  the  strokes 
of  the  wheezy  old  pump  handle  as  they  took  turns 
at  the  various  stunts  incident  to  the  task.  They  had 
wished  and  wished  again  their  father  were  a  Metho- 
dist and  believed  a  wash-basin  of  water  would 
answer  the  purpose,  or  that  the  river  Jordan  flowed 
through  Batesville,  or  that  all  baptisms  might  come 
in  summer,  or  that  there  would  be  less  of  them. 
Sometimes  the  boys  had  been  obliged  to  heat  water 
in  a  great  iron  kettle  to  take  the  chill  off  the  water 
in  the  tank,  when  some  elderly  person  was  to  be  bap- 
tized or  some  one  easily  afflicted  with  the  ague. 
They  had  also  sometimes  been  obliged  to  build  and 
keep  up  a  fire  in  the  church  stove  nearest  the  plat- 
form, to  keep  the  baptismal  font  from  freezing  over. 
"Persimmons  Bill,"  the  sexton,  declared  these  duties 
did  not  devolve  upon  him  and  were  not  specified  in 


PUNISHMENT   AND   RETALIATION  l6l 

his  contract,  and  he  refused  point-blank  to  even  pro- 
vide the  kindlings  for  the  extra  fires. 

Doctor  Boggs  was  fearful  the  Christmas  festivi- 
ties and  the  excitement  over  the  arrival  of  his 
nephew  might  cause  his  sons  to  forget  their  after- 
noon duty,  so  he  reminded  them  of  it,  over  and  over, 
again. 

Benny  Hopkins  dropped  in  after  dinner  to  see  all 
the  presents,  and  when  he  saw  the  new  skates  he 
said  he'd  heard  there  was  "bully  skating"  down  on 
Duck  Pond,  and  he  was  going.  Abram  heard  this 
and  declared  he  was  going,  too ;  said  it  was  mighty 
hard  luck  for  Sammy  not  to  have  Christmas  Day  to 
himself;  he'd  always  had  it,  and  would  bet  if  Sam 
took  it  some  one  else  would  help  fill  the  "wash  tub" 
for  the  "ducking"  and  that  nothing  would  be  said 
about  it.  He  argued  that  it  might  be  the  only  chance 
Sam  would  have  to  try  his  new  skates  all  winter. 
Sammy  was  sorely  tempted;  said  he  believed  there 
were  plenty  of  Baptists  idle  who  would  be  willing  to 
help  Jud,  and  he'd  take  chances  on  it  if  they'd  sneak 
with  him  and  not  let  any  one  see  them  when  they 
went.  Abe  and  Sam  stole  to  the  front  room  and 
down  the  front  stairs  and  out  that  way;  they 
crossed  over  to  Hopkins's  orchard,  where  Ben  met 
them,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight.  They  found 
many  others  on  the  ice  when  they  reached  the  pond. 
Sammy's  skates  fitted  exactly  and  cut  the  ice  "as 
slick  's  a  razor,"  although  he  wished  many  times  he'd 
stopped  at  the  wagon  shop  and  changed  their  color. 
When  he  saw  his  cousin  astonishing  the  natives  with 
his  tricks — spreading  the  eagle,  cutting  circles  back- 


1 62  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

wards  as  easily  as  forwards,  and  spinning  on  his 
toes,  he  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  anything. 

The  ice  was  not  very  thick,  and  was  "Injun 
rubber"  in  places.  Late  in  the  day,  when  the  crowd 
had  thinned  out  and  some  of  the  more  venturesome 
remained,  the  boys  began  to  stump  each  other  to 
cross  the  ice  where  it  was  yielding  and  wavy.  As 
might  have  been  expected,  it  broke  through  and  five 
of  the  skaters  were  precipitated  into  the  pond. 
Sammy  was  one  of  the  five.  Ben  and  Abram  were 
more  fortunate.  They  hurried  with  others  to  a 
nearby  fence,  secured  rails,  and  shoved  them  out 
toward  the  unfortunates,  whose  heads  were  barely 
above  water.  The  rails  were  multiplied  and  were 
crossed  over  until  a  bridge  was  formed,  upon  which 
Abe  ventured  and  rescued  the  younger  lads,  one  by 
one.  All  skates  were  taken  off,  the  five  drenched 
boys  were  covered  with  some  of  the  clothing  of  the 
dry  ones,  and  the  procession  filed  in  toward  Bates- 
ville.  The  sun  was  fast  sinking,  and  the  air  was 
growing  keener  and  colder  every  moment  as  the 
boys  covered  the  two  miles  to  town.  They  entered 
the  first  house  that  showed  a  hot  chimney,  and  here 
the  wet  ones  were  partially  warmed,  but  not  dried. 

Doctor  Boggs  had  been  anxiously  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  his  wayward  son.  The  family  had  long 
since  dined.  Sammy  was  not  long  in  doubt  as  to 
the  welcome  he  was  to  receive. 

"You  may  step  right  around  into  the  study,  my 
young  man,"  said  the  father,  "and  you,  Abram 
Talcott,  can  go  in  and  interview  your  aunt." 

The  nephew  was  scolded  a  little  by  Mrs.  Boggs, 


PUNISHMENT    AND    RETALIATION  163 

was  given  his  supper,  and  was  then  glad  to  retire  to 
his  room.  Sammy,  despite  his  wet  garments  and 
the  fact  that  he  was  shivering  with  cold,  was  led 
directly  to  the  "altar  of  duty."  His  father  declared 
him  to  be  the  most  wayward  and  perverse  child  in 
the  world,  the  most  thoughtless  and  heedless,  and 
the  most  exasperating.  He  would  accept  no  ex- 
cuses— there  could  be  none;  would  not  wait  for 
explanations — none  would  be  adequate ;  but  declared 
only  a  severe  whipping  might  have  the  effect  of 
strengthening  the  memory  so  there  would  be  no 
repetition  of  the  offense.  Sammy  tried  to  tell  how 
sorely  he  had  been  tempted  and  how  thoroughly  he 
had  been  punished  already  by  being  nearly  drowned ; 
tried  to  explain  that  the  fright  and  experience  would 
be  a  sufficient  lesson  to  keep  him  from  a  like  sin.  It 
was  all  to  no  purpose.  The  father  was  prepared  for 
his  part  of  the  programme  and  would  make  no 
changes.  He  had  "been  obliged  to  hire  'that 
Williams  boy'  to  assist  Judson  in  filling  the  bap- 
tistry," and  nothing  but  the  punishment  of  the  way- 
ward son  could  even  up. 

Sammy  remonstrated,  rebelled,  and  fought  ter- 
ribly, as  never  before,  but  the  flogging  was  all  the 
harder  for  it.  He  called  his  father  bad  names,  and 
swore  at  him,  and  cried  so  loud  his  mother  and 
Abram  heard  him  way  in  the  dining-room.  Abe 
was  all  wrought  up  over  it.  He  couldn't  eat  much 
himself,  and  guessed  Sammy  would  be  sent  straight- 
way to  bed  without  anything  to  eat,  so  he  crammed 
his  pockets  full  of  crackers  and  ginger  snaps  and 
determined  to  give  them  to  his  cousin.  Sam's 


1 64  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

mother  followed  him  upstairs  that  she  might  take 
care  of  his  wet  clothing  and  reason  with  him.  As 
soon  as  she  left,  Abe  hunted  for  him  and  located  him 
by  his  sobs  and  moans,  and  led  him  up  to  his  bed, 
where  he  tried  his  best  to  comfort  him.  As  Sammy 
lay  and  sobbed  and  filled  the  bed  with  crumbs, 
between  the  sobbing  and  the  crackers  he  related 
many  of  his  trials  and  unhappy  experiences  to  his 
cousin,  and  concluded  that  his  father  was  mad 
because  he  didn't  drown,  and  he  wished  himself  he 
had.  Abram,  already  sympathetic,  became  indig- 
nant and  revengeful ;  said  it  was  a  shame  and  a  dis- 
grace— a  blot  on  the  fair  and  honorable  name  of 
Boggs.  He  sat  up  and  tried  to  read  a  novel  he  had 
bought  on  the  cars,  but  made  little  headway.  Then 
he  turned  to  asking  Sammy  questions,  much  pre- 
ferring to  hear  him  talk  than  cry.  He  asked  about 
"Miss  Bella"  some  more,  about  the  Rose  Wilson 
incident,  the  club,  the  show,  and  many  other  things. 
When  he  began  to  undress  he  espied  a  large  brass 
key  hanging  from  a  nail  in  the  door-casing. 

"What's  this  key  to?"  said  he,  taking  it  in  his 
hand. 

"It's  the  key  to  the  class-room,"  said  Sammy. 

"Where's  the  class-room?" 

"It's  part  of  our  church — right  on  at  the  back." 

"Where's  the  tank  you  have  to  fill?" 

"It's  in  the  church,  under  the  pulpit." 

"How  do  they  empty  their  tub?" 

"Their  what?" 

"Their  tub  that  they  rinse  'em  in,"  said  Abe. 


PUNISHMENT   AND   RETALIATION  165 

"They  pull  out  a  plug  what's  down  under  the 
church,"  said  Sam. 

"How  do  you  reach  the  plug?" 

"Through  a  trap-door  in  the  wood-room." 

"How  do  you  reach  the  wood-room  ?" 

"Right  through  the  class-room." 

"Revenge  is  sweet  and  retaliation  is  good  for  the 
soul !"  cried  Abe ;  "and  I'll  stump  you  to  go  with  me 
and  pull  the  stopper  out  of  their  old  bath  tub." 

Sammy  laughed  at  the  mere  idea,  grew  excited, 
and  pounded  his  pillow  over  it. 

"Do  you  really  mean  it?"  he  asked. 

"I  certainly  do,"  said  Abe;  "it  would  be  good 
enough  for  them." 

Sam  laughed  some  more  and  said  he'd  not  take 
the  dare,  even  though  his  father  might  hear  of  it  and 
nearly  kill  him  for  it ;  said  he'd  go  when  the  others 
were  all  in  bed.  Abe  said  it  would  be  best  to  wait 
a  while,  until  no  one  was  stirring.  Sam  was  sleepy 
and  showed  signs  of  it,  and  the  outing  and  keen  air 
made  Abram  distrustful  of  himself.  For  fear  he 
might  go  to  sleep  if  he  went  to  bed,  Abe  dressed 
again,  put  on  his  overcoat  to  keep  warm,  put  some 
matches  and  two  wax  tapers  that  stood  in  a  holder 
on  the  dresser  in  one  of  the  pockets,  and  tried  to 
read  some  more.  The  novel  failed  to  interest  him. 
He  had  a  plot  now  far  more  interesting.  His  first 
problem  was  an  outfit  for  Sammy,  as  the  boy's  cloth- 
ing was  drying  by  the  kitchen  stove  downstairs.  He 
worked  his  wits  considerably  in  planning  an  expedi- 
tion costume  for  his  Sir  Knight,  some  six  years  his 
junior.  While  Sammy  slept  he  laid  out  the  ward- 


1 66  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

robe.  When  completed  it  was  composed  of  a  heavy 
sweater,  a  pair  of  thick  trousers  turned  up  and 
pinned  up,  two  pairs  of  foot-ball  stockings,  one  over 
the  other;  a  coat  with  sleeves  pinned  up,  a  hat  that 
was  padded  with  folded  strips  of  newspaper  inside 
the  sweat-band ;  a  pair  of  canvas  running-shoes,  and 
a  pair  of  boxing-gloves  for  mittens.  Abe  laughed 
out  loud  every  time  he  thought  of  putting  Sammy 
into  the  outfit,  and  he  was  sure,  with  all  his  varied 
experiences  at  boarding-school,  he  had  never  before 
planned  anything  half  as  funny. 

When  the  lights  around  town  had  nearly  all  gone 
out  Abe  aroused  his  bed-fellow,  but  not  without 
difficulty.  Sammy  got  up  groggy,  and  could  not 
fairly  open  his  eyes  until  Abe  had  adorned  him  with 
the  sweater  and  trousers.  Then  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  himself  in  the  mirror,  and  from  that  time  on  was 
wide  awake. 

When  the  younger  knight's  coat-of-mail  was  on, 
including  the  boxing-gloves,  Abe  had  to  sit  down  a 
minute  to  laugh. 

"I  look  worse  than  Ben  doin'  Haley,"  said  Sam. 

"You  look  like  Sancho  Tansy'  going  with  his 
chief  to  fight  the  wind-mills,"  said  Abe. 

The  two  started  out,  creeping  carefully  down  the 
.front  stairs  and  out  the  door.  It  was  a  crisp  and 
starry  night,  just  the  kind  for  a  romance.  Sam  led 
the  way,  woozy  in  his  clothes,  and  dragging  his  feet 
along  like  a  man  with  rheumatism  in  his  legs.  They 
reached  the  class-room,  entered  all  right,  and  reach- 
ed the  wood-room,  and  then  lighted  a  taper,  raised 
the  trap,  and  descended,  carrying  Simmons' s  axe 


PUNISHMENT    AND    RETALIATION  167 

with  them.  They  crawled  along  carefully  to  the 
"spigot,"  and  found  it  had  been  driven  in  for  keeps. 

They  did  not  wish  to  make  a  noise,  so  they  struck 
it  gently  at  first,  all  around,  and  a  little  harder  as 
they  circled  it  with  blows.  Abe  thought  he  could 
see  it  start  a  bit,  then  he  thought  he  could  see  stars 
a  big  bit,  as  a  jet  spurted  out  at  the  side  and  hit  him 
in  the  eye.  He  seemed  anxious  to  retaliate,  and 
struck  the  bung  with  the  axe  a  good  hard  blow.  It 
flew  against  the  end  of  the  boarded  basement.  The 
water  caught  Sammy  amidships.  He  tripped  in  his 
clothes,  fell,  and  was  soaked  as  thoroughly  as  he  was 
in  Duck  Pond.  Abe  told  him  not  to  care,  that  the 
clothes  were  his'n,  and  they  were  paid  for,  and  he'd 
stand  the  damages.  He  helped  Sam  to  his  feet, 
found  his  mittens  for  him,  and  the  two  retraced  their 
steps,  cleverly  hiding  all  evidences  of  their  visit  as 
they  went.  When  they  reached  their  room  they 
knew  they  had  not  been  missed.  Abe  hung  up  the 
wet  clothes  in  the  closet,  way  back,  and  covered  them 
so  no  one  would  find  them.  The  boys  laid  awake 
and  talked  it  over,  and  laughed  over  it  until  after 
midnight.  They  wondered  whether  Sam's  pa  would 
discover  the  loss  before  the  time  came  for  the  "duck- 
ing," and  whether  Sam  would  be  obliged  to  help 
fill  the  tank  on  the  morrow.  Sam  was  gamey — said 
he  didn't  care  if  he  did  have  to  do  it;  he  was  glad 
they'd  taken  chances  on  it. 

Judson  was  late  in  coming  to  supper  the  next 
night,  and  had  not  taken  his  place  at  the  table  before 
his  father  said : 


1 68  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

"Adoniram,  how  many  times  must  I  caution  you 
about  seeing  that  the  plug  is  in  tight  before  you  fill 
the  baptistry?  I  have  just  been  to  the  church  to 
make  ready  for  the  services  and  I  couldn't  find  a 
drop  of  water." 

"I  did  see  to  it,  father.  The  very  first  thing  we 
did  was  to  move  about  a  cord  of  wood  old  'Persim- 
mons Bill'  had  piled  over  that  trap  door,  and  go 
down  and  drive  in  that  plug.  I  took  an  axe  to  it, 
and  after  I'd  driven  it  in  Buck  Williams  hit  it  once 
or  twice,  good  and  hard,  until  I  feared  he'd  split  it." 

"That  wasn't  the  trouble.  I  found  the  plug  all 
right,  and  it's  as  good  as  ever.  You  certainly 
couldn't  have  driven  it  in  very  hard,  though.  We 
are  in  a  predicament.  Some  of  the  candidates  come 
in  from  the  country ;  it's  too  late  to  get  more  water, 
too  late  to  notify  them;  they  will  come  with  their 
friends  and  will  be  greatly  disappointed.  We  will 
be  obliged  to  postpone  it,  nevertheless." 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I'd  just  as  soon  wait," 
said  Jud.  "I'm  almost  willing  to  wait  until  it's 
warm  weather,  when  I  can  be  immersed  out-of-- 
doors and  in  some  flowing  stream." 

"I  agree  with  Jud,"  said  Abram.  "I  was  bap- 
tized in  Narragansett  Bay  and  in  the  month  of  June. 
It  wasn't  just  like  the  Jordan,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
more  like  the  way  Jesus  was  baptized." 

"It's  more  like  the  picture  of  it  in  pa's  study,"  said 
Sam. 

"It's  only  a  symbol,"  said  Doctor  Boggs.  "It  is 
symbolical  of  the  washing  away  of  sin — is  a  public 
confession  of  our  faith,  and  the  ceremony  is  per- 


PUNISHMENT   AND   RETALIATION  169 

formed  after  the  manner  in  which  our  Saviour  was 
baptized." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  admit  that,"  said  Abe ;  "but  I  like  to 
have  the  conditions  and  the  scenery  as  nearly  like 
the  original  as  the  mere  act  itself.  I  guess  if  John 
the  Baptist  had  been  obliged  to  cut  some  ice  in 
December,  or  fill  a  tank  from  a  town  pump,  he  would 
have  hit  upon  some  different  symbol.  I  like  water 
well  enough,  because  I  can  swim  and  learned  to 
duck  under  years  ago,  but  I  don't  like  this  tank  idea 
at  all." 

"There's  no  plug  to  a  river,  that's  sure,"  said 
Sammy  as  he  winked  an  eye  at  Abe. 

The  Doctor  dropped  the  subject  for  fear  of  the 
influence  a  continued  discussion  might  have  on  the 
boys,  and  that  night  he  told  Mrs.  Boggs  he  thought 
it  would  be  quite  as  well  for  Sammy  to  sleep  apart 
from  Abram  Talcott,  and  he  did.  The  baptismal 
services  were  postponed  for  a  fortnight.  Sammy's 
skates  changed  their  color  the  following  day. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

CHRISTMAS   HOLIDAYS 

Chris'mas  trees  and  Chris'mas  cheer  are  nothin'  to  the  poor 
wait  who  stands  outside  in  the  blindin'  snow,  and  hasn't 
'nough  voice  left  to  locate  him. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

\ 

It  was  a  notable  holiday  week  in  Batesville.  Jud 
introduced  Abram  at  the  club,  where  the  young 
man  felt  perfectly  at  home  from  the  first,  and  par- 
ticipated freely  in  the  exercises.  He  was  a  senior 
now  in  Worcester  Academy,  and  was  preparing  for 
Brown  University;  was  a  thoroughly-trained  and 
all-around  athlete,  and  knew  all  that  the  books,  in- 
structors, and  practice  could  give  of  gymnasium 
work.  He  had  medals  for  fencing  and  boxing.  The 
second  evening  he  brought  down  a  portion  of  his 
wardrobe  and  exhibited  the  medals  to  a  delighted 
audience.  After  that  nothing  would  satisfy  the  old- 
er club  members  but  a  glove  contest.  Fairbanks  had 
talked  considerably  of  his  skill  at  boxing,  when  there 
was  no  one  around  to  offer  him  a  challenge;  but 
after  seeing  the  medals  he  did  not  talk  as  much,  and 
seemed  anxious  to  leave  the  subject  whenever  any 
one  approached  it  in  his  presence.  The  young  men  of 
the  club,  however,  persistently  urged  him  to  a  con- 
test with  Abram,  and  he  persistently  declared  him- 


CHRISTMAS    HOLIDAYS  Ijl 

self  out  of  form  and  in  no  shape  to  go  against  an 
amateur  with  medals.  Then  for  two  or  three  days 
Fairbanks  put  in  all  the  time  he  could  get  in  glove 
practice,  just  as  though  he  might  yield  later  on  to  the 
pressure  made  upon  him.  He  tired  out  all  the  young 
men  he  had  been  training  in  the  manly  art,  and  then 
hinted  to  Jud  that  he  could  bring  on  his  cousin,  if 
the  young  man  thought  himself  in  condition  to  stand 
punishment  and  humiliation.  Abram  said  he  was 
ready  for  anything  that  had  sport  in  it,  and  it  didn't 
take  long  for  the  news  to  get  around  town  that 
something  special  would  be  doing  at  the  club;  that 
it  was  likely  that  Fairbanks  would  be  in  shape  to 
stand  up  before  Abram.  The  club-rooms  were 
crowded  upon  the  evening  named,  many  of  the  older 
male  inhabitants  being  in  attendance.  Some  fel- 
lows crowded  in  who  had  never  been  admitted  be- 
fore; men  who  could  be  counted  at  the  cock-fights 
that  secretly  took  place  between  Scottville  and  Bates- 
ville  birds.  These  crowded  close  to  the  ropes,  and 
used  all  the  peculiar  language  incident  to  the  prize- 
ring. 

Fairbanks  was  not  large  in  stature,  but  was  heav- 
ier than  Abe  by  several  pounds.  The  two  put  on  the 
soft  gloves,  chose  seconds,  referee,  and  timer,  and 
stepped  inside  the  space  roped  off  in  the  center  of  the 
gymnasium.  A  purely  scientific  exhibition  was 
promised.  Fairbanks  depended  upon  his  extra 
weight,  and  rushed  his  antagonist  pretty  hard  at  the 
start,  while  Abe  awaited  his  opportunities  to  display 
the  science  of  the  art.  Just  when  the  local  cham- 
pion appeared  to  have  the  best  of  it  the  visitor  would 


1 7 2  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

land  a  telling  blow  in  a  manner  to  surprise  and  stag- 
ger him,  and  to  bring  most  enthusiastic  cheering 
from  the  men  nearest  the  ropes,  who  appeared  the 
most  fully  to  understand  Abe's  tactics  and  the  value 
of  his  strategy.  Fairbanks  was  thoroughly  out- 
classed in  skill,  and  when  the  young  man  touched 
him  up  easily  at  times  when  he  felt  sure  of  a  point, 
he  showed  some  signs  of  anger.  Abe  laughed  freely 
and  proceeded  to  make  short  work  of  it.  The  harder 
Fairbanks  pounded  the  easier  Abe  warded  off  his 
blows  and  the  more  certain  was  he  to  plant  the 
gloves  where  Fairbanks  was  tenderest.  At  the  end 
of  the  fifth  round  the  president  and  general  director 
was  forced  to  retire  with  a  black-and-blue  eye,  thor- 
oughly worsted. 

From  that  hour  Abe  was  a  lion  in  Batesville. 
The  old  and  young  vied  with  each  other  in  shower- 
ing attentions  upon  him;  the  club  was  crowded 
nightly  to  witness  his  exhibitions,  and  he  was  re- 
garded a  veritable  wonder  for  his  years.  It  stimu- 
lated interest  in  the  club,  until  the  pastors  generally 
became  a  little  doubtful  as  to  the  effect  it  might  have 
upon  the  services  of  the  churches,  and  particularly 
the  special  services  that  were  to  follow  the  holidays. 

Abram  had  been  drilled  considerably  in  elocution, 
and  Jud  schemed  to  have  him  called  out  for  an  ex- 
hibition of  oratory.  The  young  man  thrilled  his 
auditors  by  his  rendition  of  "Horatio  at  the  Bridge,  ' 
and  thereafter  was  called  out  nightly,  and  was 
forced  to  respond  to  encores.  A  ladies'  night  was 
arranged,  and  he  was  naturally  the  star  performer. 
Arabella  came  from  home  and  met  the  wonderful 


CHRISTMAS    HOLIDAYS  173 

cousin,  and  was  as  delighted  as  any  in  the  audience 
with  his  display  of  physical  and  mental  talents. 

Sammy  Boggs  was  the  only  boy  in  Batesville  who 
was  absolutely  barred  from  these  delights.  Benny's 
description  of  them  only  made  him  the  more  unhap- 
py. He  was  indeed  draining  the  gall  of  the  very 
dregs  of  bitterness  over  his  fate.  He  became  thor- 
oughly dissatisfied  with  his  home  and  surroundings, 
and  was  sure  no  one  cared  for  him  and  that  his  lot, 
already  hard,  was  to  become  gradually  harder.  The 
boy  brooded  over  his  ill-luck,  became  embittered, 
soured,  and  moody.  Cold  weather  alone  prevent- 
ed his  running  away  from  home.  His  father  seemed 
even  more  severe  than  before,  and  was  whipping  him 
for  mere  trifles.  He  longed  for  Arabella's  return, 
and  regarded  her  and  Ben  as  his  only  friends  on 
earth.  One  day  he  decided  to  leave  home  forever, 
and  walked  out  as  far  as  Deacon  Somers's,  where 
Arabella  got  her  arms  about  him,  comforted  him,  and 
dissuaded  him.  She  did  not  tell  him  of  her  arrange- 
ments to  leave  the  parsonage.  Of  course  she  hitched 
up  a  horse  and  drove  him  back  to  town,  and  had  a 
number  of  pretty  excuses  as  to  why  she  had  detained 
him  so  long — excuses  that  undoubtedly  kept  him 
from  a  severe  whipping. 

Sammy  wished  a  thousand  times  the  club  had 
never  been  organized,  and  fully  as  many  times  that 
his  cousin  had  never  come  to  visit  them.  If  his 
father  had  only  been  a  missionary  and  he  had  fallen 
into  Abram's  luck,  with  all  the  clothes  and  things, 
and  happy  days  in  school,  and  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  athletic  training,  and  money  to  spend, 


J74  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

he  thought  he  would  be  far  more  fortunate.  Every- 
thing seemed  against  him ;  the  world  was  cruel,  and 
Benny  appeared  to  be  drifting  away  from  him,  now 
that  the  club  was  so  attractive.  He  longed  for 
school  to  begin,  that  he  might  go  somewhere  and  do 
some  of  the  things  other  boys  did. 

Mrs.  Boggs  received  a  sweet  note  from  Arabella, 
expressing  many  regrets  that  she  felt  obliged  to  leave 
the  parsonage;  but  she  yielded  gracefully  to  the 
wishes  of  her  pastor  and  had  made  arrangements 
to  live  with  the  Howards.  She  hoped  Doctor  Boggs 
would  some  day  realize  she  had  meant  to  do  no 
harm  in  the  household.  The  teacher  spoke  of  her 
love  for  the  mistress  of  the  parsonage,  for  Roger, 
and  for  Sammy,  and  expressed  the  hope  they  might 
see  each  other  often. 

Sammy  caught  his  mother  crying,  and  as  he  was 
constantly  in  the  mood,  he  went  to  comfort  her  and 
learned,  for  the  first  time,  of  Arabella's  decision  and 
how  deeply  his  mother  had  become  attached  to  his 
friend.  His  mother  had  never  seemed  affectionate 
to  him  before ;  she  had  rather  appeared  cold  and  in- 
different, a  woman  of  cares  but  not  of  sorrows. 
When  Sammy  broke  down  and  cried  the  two  opened 
their  hearts  to  each  other  deeper  than  ever  before, 
and  Sammy  learned  for  sure  his  mother  did  pos- 
sess much  sympathy  for  him  and  had  never  sanc- 
tioned the  severe  punishments  he  had  received.  All 
this  knowledge  but  added  to  his  growing  grievances 
and  made  him  the  more  depressed.  He  fairly 
hated  his  father  now;  thought  he  had  not  only  de- 
prived him  of  all  pleasure,  but  had  also  caused  the 


CHRISTMAS    HOLIDAYS  175 

removal  of  his  dearest  and  best  friend,  and  was 
shortening  the  days  of  the  one  who  should  hold  this 
relation  to  him — his  mother.  If  others  were  happy 
that  Christmas  week,  Sammy  Boggs  was  not.  He 
saw  little  of  Arabella,  or  Benny,  or  any  of  his  old- 
time  friends,  and  was  left  practically  alone  to  lament 
his  fortune  and  grieve  over  the  fact  of  his  existence. 
Oh,  if  a  kind  Providence  would  only  make  smooth  a 
boy's  pathway  at  such  a  time!  Oh,  if  fathers  and 
mothers  would  only  understand ! 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  FREE  METHODIST   WATCH-MEETING 

If  a  person  invites  you  to  ride  and  'pears  to  mean  it,  there's 
no  use  hangin'  back  and  spitin'  yourself.  The  ride  might 
save  your  back  and  legs  from  terrible  pain,  and  might  also  save 
your  temper. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  Free  Methodists  gained  a  permanent  footing 
in  Batesville  after  a  year  of  proselyting  and  special 
effort,  and  had  erected  a  large  brick,  barn-like  struc- 
ture in  the  very  heart  of  the  village.  The  dedication 
of  the  new  church  was  an  event  of  Christmas  week. 
It  was  the  first  brick  building  in  the  village,  and 
Doctor  Boggs  suggested  the  material  had  been  wise- 
ly chosen,  as  the  noise  the  "shouting  fanatics"  made 
would  certainly  raise  the  roof  and  split  the  siding 
of  a  wooden  structure.  They  were  jubilant  over 
their  new  church-home,  and  the  week  was  not  ended 
before  citizens  in  the  neighborhood  declared  the 
church  and  its  members  were  public  nuisances.  Bill 
Taylor,  naturally  noisy,  was  one  of  the  loudest 
shouters,  and  in  his  new  zeal  was  working  his  vocal 
organs  overtime.  When  Abram  heard  him  he  said 
he  thought  he  was  a  greater  blowhard  than  a  whale. 
The  Free  Methodists  gave  him  employment  in  the 
construction  of  the  church,  and  it  quickened  his  faith 
and  gave  him  something  new  to  brag  about. 


THE   FREE   METHODIST    WATCH-MEETING      177 

Like  the  other  churches  of  the  place,  the  Free 
Methodists  had  decided  upon  special  revival  serv- 
ices, and  the  series  was  to  be  opened  with  a  "great 
pentecostal  watch-meeting"  to  usher  in  the  new 
year.  They  went  so  far  as  to  have  hand-bills  scat- 
tered through  the  town,  that  said  nothing  of  the  ef- 
fort that  would  be  made  to  raise  the  church  debt,  but 
that  did  announce,  in  big  red  letters,  the  "Great 
Downpouring  of  the  Divine  Spirit  that  was  Going 
to  Shake  the  Dry  Bones  of  Batesville  Sinners !"  and 
that  contained  the  foot-line,  "Everybody  Invited!" 

Abram  had  heard  them  shout  some  from  a  dis- 
tance, and  expressed  a  desire  to  go.  Sammy  ob- 
tained the  consent  of  his  mother  to  accompany  him. 
Mrs.  Boggs  said  she  had  made  arrangements  to 
leave  the  baby  with  Mrs.  Hopkins  and  she  was 
going,  and  "was  going  to  sit  way  up  forward,  right 
amongst  them,  to  know  what  there  was  to  that 
power  business."  The  boys  left  the  house  early, 
and  Abe  induced  Sammy  to  steal  away  with  him  up 
to  the  club  for  a  while,  until  things  "had  begun  to 
warm  up"  at  the  church. 

It  proved  a  most  unfortunate  visit  for  Sammy,  as 
it  added  so  much  to  his  discontent  and  increased  his 
spirit  of  unrest.  The  club  was  a  revelation  to  him, 
and  he  was  completely  carried  away  with  everything 
he  saw  and  that  Abe  explained  to  him.  When  he 
saw  his  cousin  give  exhibitions  with  the  Indian 
clubs,  the  dumb-bells,  upon  the  parallel  bars,  the 
swings  and  rings  and  the  bowling-alley,  his  envy 
knew  no  bounds.  Ten  o'clock  came  and  he  was  as 
wide  awake  as  he  ever  was  in  his  life.  Benny  and 


I78  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

his  father  came  in,  and  Ben  said  they  were  going 
over  "to  hear  'em  shout,"  and  Sam  said  he  was 
going  and  hoped  they  might  all  sit  together.  Abram 
had  hard  work  in  breaking  away,  but  finally  induced 
Milt  Babcock  and  Deaney  to  go  along  with  him. 
Mr.  Hopkins  became  interested  in  a  game  of  check- 
ers, and  permitted  Ben  to  go  with  the  boys.  At  the 
church  they  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  a  seat  to- 
gether, but  one  of  the  ushers  finally  found  one  about 
half-way  up  the  right  aisle.  The  seats  were  exceed- 
ingly plain  and  were  painted  a  yellow  hue  and  were 
grained.  Sammy  didn't  like  the  color  at  all,  and 
said  he'd  bet  a  cookie  something  would  happen  be- 
fore the  new  year  came  in. 

Things  were  indeed  "warming  up"  when  the 
boys  entered.  There  were  three  ministers,  with 
powerful  lungs,  up  on  the  platform,  and  they  were 
yelling  for  money.  "There's  an  even  hundred  of 
the  indebtedness  left,"  cried  one.  "Who'll  take  the 
last  dollar?"  A  woman  said  she  would,  and  then 
some  one  took  the  next-to-the-last,  and  while  they 
were  shouting  and  singing  and  hollering  "Amen" 
all  over  the  church,  excited  people  stood  up  one  by 
one  and  pledged  each  a  dollar,  until  the  hundred  was 
raised.  When  the  ministers  knew  the  debt  was 
cleared  off  they  exhorted  the  brethren  to  the  altar 
for  the  "pentecostal  downpour."  Such  a  gathering 
and  such  yelling  and  clapping  of  hands,  and  such 
queer  antics  Abram  and  the  boys  had  never  wit- 
nessed. The  people  groaned,  moaned,  hugged  each 
other,  kissed  each  other,  and  fell  over  each  other  and 
had  hysterics.  Abe  said  he  thought  they  had  the 


THE    FREE    METHODIST    WATCH-MEETING       179 

jim-jams.  He  stood  up  once  and  saw  a  woman  who 
had  the  power  throw  her  baby  away,  and  he  saw  his 
aunt  catch  it  before  it  struck  the  seat  just  in  front  of 
her.  He  told  Deaney  about  it,  and  he  passed  it  along. 
Sam  and  Ben  sat  farthest  inside,  and  when  it 
reached  them  they  stood  upon  the  seat  to  see  if 
there'd  be  another  baby  thrown.  Bill  Taylor  was 
praying  at  the  altar.  He  must  have  been  peeking 
through  his  fingers,  for  he  saw  the  boys.  He  came 
and  called  them  down  in  a  sort  of  pompous  way. 

A  few  minutes  after  that  an  excited  man,  who 
was  known  to  be  less  than  half-witted,  started  to 
climb  an  iron  post  that  stood  near  the  plat- 
form. He  said  he  was  "goin'  up  to  glory !"  Bill 
Taylor  saw  him  and  pulled  him  back,  saying,  "Not 
that  way,  brother;  you  might  tip  over  that  lamp." 
There  was  a  kerosene  lamp  in  a  bracket  on  the  post. 
When  the  boys  saw  the  scuffle,  and  saw  the  half- 
witted man  was  madder  than  a  March  hare  over  his 
recall,  they  stood  up  again  to  watch  the  scrap.  Tay- 
lor appeared  anxious  to  get  out  of  it.  He  saw  Sam 
and  Benny  on  the  seat,  and  came  again,  swelled  up 
bigger  than  a  trust  octopus,  and  called  them  down 
again,  and  said  it  must  be  the  last  time.  A  hundred 
other  people  were  standing  up  and  other  boys  were 
on  the  seats,  but  Taylor,  for  some  reason,  didn't 
call  them  down.  He  seemed  to  have  it  in  for  Sam 
and  Ben.  They  were  his  meat  and  he  didn't  dare 
tackle  anything  his  size. 

Along  about  midnight,  when  nearly  every  one 
around  the  altar  was  having  the  power,  and  some 
were  keeled  over  and  many  were  exhausted,  a  sister 


180  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

named  Gerkins  seemed  to  have  more  vitality  than  all 
the  others.  She  danced  up  and  down  the  right  aisle, 
and  begged  every  one  she  could  reach  to  come  to  the 
altar.  Finally  she  stopped  opposite  the  seat  con- 
taining the  boys.  She  extended  her  fat  arms  and 
cried  out  with  a  screechy  voice : 

"Oh !  how  I'd  love  to  take  these  dear  boys  right  in 
my  arms,  right  up  to  the  mercy  seat !" 

There  were  five  of  the  boys,  and  when  they  con- 
templated the  spectacle  they  would  make  in  going 
to  the  mercy  seat  in  that  fashion,  they  smiled. 

"You  needn't  laugh,  young  men,"  said  Sister 
Gerkins,  "It's  God's  way.  He  needs  you.  Won't 
you  come  ?  Won't  you  let  me  take  you  ?" 

Abram  turned  to  Deaney,  and  said  he'd  be  carried 
up  if  the  rest  of  them  would,  and  Deaney  laughed 
and  the  other  boys  wanted  to  know  what  he  was 
laughing  at,  and  he  passed  it  along,  and  all  laughed. 

"Come,  boys,  come  with  me!"  sang  out  the  en- 
thusiastic woman.  Then  she  grasped  Abram's  coat 
at  the  shoulder,  just  as  though  she  was  going  to  lift 
him  bodily,  and  she  did  try  it.  While  she  tugged  at 
him  she  cried,  louder  than  ever : 

"Come,  break  away  from  the  Devil!  God  wants 
you !" 

Abe  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  though  he  wanted 
to  break  away.  He  looked  up  at  Sister  Gerkins,  and 
said  loud  enough  for  all  the  boys  to  hear : 

"The  Devil  won't  let  go !" 

It  was  too  much  for  the  boys.  They  could  hold 
in  no  longer.  They  all  burst  out  laughing,  and  one 


THE   FREE   METHODIST   WATCH-MEETING       181 

of  the  ushers  came  and  separated  Mrs.  Gerkins  and 
Abe,  and  led  the  five  from  church. 

The  next  morning  Bill  Taylor  was  around  town 
telling  how  that  "wicked  Boggs  boy"  raised  a  row 
in  his  church,  and  the  news  spread  like  wild-fire. 
Doctor  Boggs  first  heard  of  it  in  Besley's  meat 
market,  then  at  the  grocery  store.  It  mortified  him 
and  angered  him  at  the  same  time,  and  the  more  he 
contemplated  that  his  boy — a  minister's  son,  son  of 
the  pastor  of  a  rival  church — had  been  guilty  of  dis- 
turbing a  religious  service,  the  more  he  realized  the 
enormity  of  the  disgrace  and  the  more  determined 
was  he  that  his  Sammy  should  pay  some  adequate 
penalty.  This  was  his  plain  Christian  duty.  He  hur- 
ried home,  red  in  the  face,  and  went  to  the  peach 
tree  for  new  sprouts  before  going  into  the  house. 
Sammy  was  found  and  was  summoned  to  the  whip- 
ping-post. The  pastor  knew  there  could  be  no  miti- 
gating circumstances;  there  could  be  no  mistake  in 
the  report.  His  boy  had  been  expelled  from  a  church 
service  for  bad  conduct,  and  the  bare  fact  was  cue 
enough  for  him. 

Sammy  admitted  that  he  was  called  out  of  church, 
but  claimed  the  fault  was  not  his  own.  He  also  ad- 
mitted that  Bill  Taylor  caught  him  standing  on  the 
seat.  The  bare  admissions  were  sufficient  for  the 
outraged  father.  He  would  listen  to  no  explana- 
tions. He  could  see  but  one  possible  side  to  it. 
Sammy  was  obliged  to  remove  his  coat  this  time, 
and  he  was  most  unmercifully  flogged,  until  Mrs. 
Boggs  rushed  into  the  study  and  stood  between  her 
husband  and  her  son.  She  was  mad  enough  to  tear 


1 82  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

her  husband's  hair  out,  and  said  if  any  human  being 
could  attend  such  a  "pow-wow"  as  that  watch-meet- 
ing without  laughing  or  doing  something  out  of  the 
way,  he  was  a  saint;  if  her  husband  was  going  to 
continue  to  beat  his  children  when  his  reason  was 
dethroned  and  his  anger  so  apparent  she  would  take 
the  children  and  leave  him.  It  was  the  second  time 
she  had  planted  a  firm  foot  down,  and  the  planting 
had  every  indication  of  earnestness. 

Sammy  was  led  from  the  study  by  his  mother, 
and  he  muttered  imprecations  and  oaths  against  his 
father  as  he  went.  He  told  his  mother  all  about  the 
affair  at  the  church,  how  he  had  stood  up  to  see  her 
catch  babies  on  the  fly,  and  how  they  all  laughed 
when  Satan  would  not  loose  his  hold  of  Abram. 
The  new  year  didn't  start  right  in  the  Boggs  house- 
hold, and  Sammy  was  sure  the  measly  color  of  the 
church  pews  had  much  to  do  with  it.  Doctor  Boggs 
concluded  everything  would  be  better  when  his 
brother's  "spoiled  child"  left  town. 

Abram  left  town  the  day  after,  and  the  stage  ran 
the  same  gauntlet  of  curious  eyes  as  it  passed  down 
the  street  and  around  Hooker's  corner  on  its  way  to 
Chili  Station. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A    SPLIT    IN    THE    CHURCH 

'Tain't  best  to  be  a  fanatic.  Life's  too  short,  and  besides 
every  one's  on  to  you  and  anxious  to  avoid  you.  It's  better  to 
be  mod'rate  and  take  more  chances  for  doin'  good  in  the  world. 
— Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  Young  Men's  Club  closed  its  doors  for  two 
weeks  following  its  New  Year's  reception,  and  at  the 
suggestion  of  Fairbanks  and  Miss  Somers,  that  its 
work  might  not  interfere  with  the  week  of  prayer 
and  special  revival  services  in  the  churches.  This 
action  was  quite  unexpected,  but  was  fully  noted  by 
the  church-going  portion  of  the  population,  while 
most  of  the  pastors  expressed  their  appreciation  in  a 
public  way.  When  the  special  services  were  begun 
in  the  Baptist  Church  a  noted  revivalist  came  to 
assist  Doctor  Boggs.  He  was  fond  of  music,  and 
insisted  that  music  should  constitute  a  goodly  por- 
tion of  the  special  programme.  In  this  he  was 
warmly  supported  by  Fairbanks,  who  tendered  the 
services  of  his  trained  male  quartette,  that  was  a 
direct  product  of  the  club  and  its  organization. 
Doctor  Boggs  protested  somewhat,  but  the  quartette 
had  only  been  in  evidence  one  evening  when  the 
pastor  was  forced  to  acknowledge  its  drawing  pow- 
ers and  its  effectiveness.  Thereafter  the  church  was 


1 84  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

crowded  nightly  to  its  capacity;  the  meetings  were 
extended  for  a  third  week,  and  the  converts  were 
more  numerous  than  ever  before  in  the  history  of 
the  church.  There  was  a  wonderful  awakening 
among  the  young  people,  and  despite  his  well-known 
hostility  to  the  club,  Doctor  Boggs  was  permitted  to 
welcome  many  of  the  young  men  of  the  club  to  his 
membership,  and  to  lead  them  into  the  baptismal 
waters.  Townspeople  gave  Miss  Somers,  Fairbanks 
and  the  evangelist  more  credit  for  this  result  than 
they  were  willing  to  give  the  pastor,  although  the 
latter  was  a  forceful  speaker  and  a  most  fervent  man 
in  prayer. 

Mrs.  Boggs  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  special 
services,  and  did  not  miss  but  two  of  them  during 
the  series,  and  only  absented  herself  then  out  of  con- 
sideration for  Sammy,  whose  nightly  duty  was  to 
remain  at  home  to  look  after  the  house  and  his  infant 
brother. 

Arabella  had  taken  up  her  residence  with  the 
Howards',  and  on  account  of  her  many  duties 
Sammy  saw  but  little  of  her.  To  make  his  misery 
more  complete,  his  father  forbade  him  to  return 
from  school  by  way  of  the  kindergarten,  and  thus 
shut  off  the  daily  meetings  with  his  friend  that  had 
been  so  enjoyable,  and  to  which  he  had  looked  for- 
ward during  the  day  time  with  such  pleasant  antici- 
pations. It  was  a  gloomy  time  for  Sammy  Boggs. 
At  a  season  when  other  hearts  were  being  warmed, 
his  own  heart  was  fast  cooling  and  hardening. 
When  others  were  rejoicing  and  praising  God  for 
new  hopes  and  aspirations,  he  was  sitting  in  the  dark 


A   SPLIT   IN    THE    CHURCH  185 

shadows  of  an  endless  night,  was  counting  his  last 
friend  as  lost  and  was  contemplating  a  separation 
from  familiar  scenes,  and  looking  with  forebodings 
upon  a  doubtful  future.  In  the  solitude  of  the 
home,  while  his  baby  brother  slept,  he  brooded  over 
his  ill-luck  until  his  griefs  became  a  disease.  No 
man  was  ever  more  sick  than  he.  He  lost  all  inter- 
est in  his  school-work,  and  his  teacher  and  parents 
expressed  the  fear  that  he  was  losing  his  memory. 
He  appeared  to  care  for  nothing,  and  was  seldom 
seen  to  smile.  Arabella,  alone,  read  the  cause  for 
the  change  in  him,  and  laid  all  manner  of  schemes 
for  seeing  him  and  talking  with  him.  She  made  a 
confidant  of  his  teacher,  solicited  her  aid  in  Sammy's 
behalf,  and  this  dear  woman  tried  her  very  best  to 
get  inside  the  boy's  heart,  to  win  his  confidence,  and 
to  ease  his  unrest.  She  made  but  little  headway. 

An  incident  at  the  school  assisted  the  two  women 
materially  in  their  efforts  to  awaken  life  and  interest 
in  the  disheartened  boy.  The  school-house  caught 
on  fire,  and  although  the  damage  was  slight,  it  gave 
them  an  idea,  and  they  worked  Sammy  Boggs  into 
it.  There  was  no  protection  against  fire  in  the 
town;  they  would  at  least  provide  some  protection 
for  the  school  buildings.  They  took  Sammy  into 
their  council,  told  him  what  they  wished  to  accom- 
plish, and  as  a  result  of  frequent  meetings,  rubber 
fire  buckets  were  purchased  and  a  fire  brigade  was 
organized.  The  subscription  lists  were  circulated 
by  Mark  Fisher,  of  the  upper  school,  and  by  Sammy 
Boggs,  of  the  lower  school,  and  when  the  buckets 
came  and  were  installed  in  racks  in  the  hallways, 


1 86  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

these  two  became  captains  of  the  companies  formed 
upon  the  two  floors  of  the  building.  Fire  drills  were 
inaugurated,  and  Captains  Boggs  and  Fisher  vied 
with  each  other  in  raising  the  efficiency  of  their 
respective  companies.  On  special  occasions  the 
brigade  gave  exhibition  drills  for  the  general  public 
and  extinguished  imaginary  fires,  or  improvised 
fires,  and  sometimes  the  citizens  offered  prizes  for  the 
better  company.  These  exhibitions  always  took 
place  upon  the  school  play  grounds,  and,  so  long  as 
the  novelty  lasted,  Sammy  Boggs  seemed  like  a  new 
boy  with  revived  spirits.  The  novelty,  however, 
was  not  long-lived,  for  Sammy's  company  won  all 
the  prizes,  there  were  no  new  worlds  to  conquer,  and 
the  school-house  did  not  again  take  fire.  Then  the 
buckets  remained  long  unused  in  the  hallways. 

The  new  life  that  had  been  inoculated  into  the 
Baptist  Church  promised  to  be  an  element  of  disinte- 
gration a  little  later.  The  difficulty  all  arose  over 
the  question  of  church  music.  The  singing  through- 
out the  quarter  of  a  century  of  Dr.  Boggs's  pastorate 
had  been  by  the  congregation.  Nothing  but  the 
rendition  of  the  more  familiar  hymns  in  the  hymnal 
had  ever  been  attempted.  The  congregation  had 
now  been  treated  to  something  more  pretentious. 
The  male  quartette  had  rendered  the  newer  gospel 
hymns  with  telling  effect  and  had  sung  some  high- 
class  compositions  at  the  club,  proving  its  ability  to 
render  the  more  modern  music  that  was  fast  creep- 
ing into  the  churches. 

There  was  a  new  inspiration  in  Batesville. 
Things  were  looking  up  and  some  one  had  stirred 


A   SPLIT   IN    THE    CHURCH  187 

them  up.  Hooker  and  Jud  Boggs  gave  the  credit  to 
Arabella  Somers  and  declared  it  was  her  residence 
in  Boston  that  had  given  her  the  inspiration.  It 
was  she  who  induced  Fairbanks  to  go  to  Buffalo  to 
purchase  a  second-hand  printing  outfit  and  to  em- 
bark upon  the  journalistic  sea,  and  volume  one,  num- 
ber one,  of  the  Batesville  Banner  had  made  its  bow 
to  the  public.  It  contained  articles  that  half  the 
town  knew  were  written  by  Miss  Somers.  One  of 
them  was  in  advocacy  of  the  building  of  a  steam 
railway  through  the  place,  and  urged  citizens  to  take 
an  interest  in  the  project,  and  farmers  to  be  liberal 
in  the  matter  of  granting  right-of-way ;  another  was 
calculated  to  awaken  an  interest  in  the  question  of 
adequate  protection  from  fires.  It  was  but  natural 
that,  when  everything  else  was  putting  on  modern 
airs,  the  spirit  of  enterprise  should  enter  the 
churches.  It  was  but  a  natural  evolution  that  some 
of  the  congregation  of  the  Baptist  Church  should 
begin  to  advocate  modern  music.  Some  wanted  the 
male  quartette  with  a  violin  accompaniment;  some 
wanted  a  mixed  choir  with  the  male  quartette  as  a 
feature,  while  others  were  even  ambitious  enough  to 
talk  of  a  great  organ  with  all  the  other  modern 
attractions.  This  talk  started  a  new  spirit  of 
rivalry  among  the  leading  churches.  Each  wanted 
some  new  and  attractive  features,  and  there  were 
few  in  the  congregations  who  were  satisfied  with 
things  as  they  were.  The  older  members,  who  had 
worshipped  satisfactorily  for  years  with  the  old, 
scouted  innovations  and  shuddered  at  the  expense 
the  new  would  certainly  bring.  Doctor  Boggs  was 


1 88  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

fully  satisfied  with  his  church  surroundings  and 
with  the  progress  being  made  under  his  pastorate. 
In  a  material,  as  well  as  in  a  spiritual,  way  the 
church  had  gone  forward.  True,  the  church  edifice 
had  been  painted  but  once  during  the  long  period, 
but  it  had  been  painted  the  once,  and  had  been 
reshingled,  and  that  was  to  his  credit.  He  was 
perfectly  willing  some  of  these  necessary  things 
should  be  done,  but  would  not  sanction  the  doing  of 
unnecessary  things,  and  certainly  would  not  permit 
wholesale  modifications.  He  set  a  foot  squarely 
down  upon  all  plans  to  change  the  church  music,  and 
even  went  so  far  as  to  preach  against  it.  During 
this  discourse,  so  characteristic  of  the  man,  he  said : 
"Good  singing  is  of  divine  origin  and  should  go 
hand  in  hand  with  the  preaching  of.  the  Gospel,  but 
it  is  only  expressed  in  the  sympathetic  tones  of  an 
entire  congregation,  however  diversified.  It  may 
not  be  performed  with  that  exquisitely  insipid  ele- 
gance which  characterizes  a  quartette  choir,  or  a 
male  quartette  with  a  violin  attached  to  it,  but  it  has 
some  vital  power  and  personal  profit  in  it  that  makes 
sacred  song  of  value  in  the  church.  What  do  hon- 
est Christians  care  for  incomprehensible  demi-semi- 
quavers  of  operatic  fancies,  anthems,  oratorios,  arias, 
screechy  solos  that  no  one  can  understand,  chants 
that  mean  nothing — rendered  by  a  few  at  one  end  of 
the  sanctuary?  Christianity  is  not  selfish;  it  com- 
prehends the  many.  Church  music  is  not  for  the 
few.  Old-fashioned  Christians  feel  that  when  secu- 
lar days  with  their  exhausting  toils  are  past,  Heaven 
vouchsafes  to  them,  creatures  of  an  immortality,  as 


A   SPLIT   IN    THE   CHURCH  189 

well  as  unto  beasts  of  the  field  and  birds  of  the  air, 
the  privilege  of  making  melodious  the  blessed  day  of 
rest.  Thus  they  come  before  the  Lord  with  sing- 
ing, that  they  may  pour  forth  their  own  notes  of 
gladness — inartificial  it  may  be,  but  sincere  never- 
theless. The  old  hymns  are  good  enough  and  the 
old  methods  are  good  enough  for  those  who  are 
truly  born  again  through  grace.  God  give  us  all 
the  gift  of  song!" 

The  discourse  created  more  talk  and  comment 
than  any  Doctor  Boggs  had  ever  delivered.  Fair- 
banks was  such  a  musical  enthusiast  and  was  so 
prominently  mixed  up  in  the  agitation  he  could  not 
refrain  from  commenting  upon  it  and  taking  issue 
with  it  in  the  Banner.  Had  the  Doctor  been  a  giant 
and  with  a  mighty  maul  and  wedge  split  his  church 
into  two  parts,  nearly  even,  he  could  not  have  more 
effectively  divided  his  congregation.  The  factions 
became  pronounced,  the  gulf  widened,  and  the 
breach  looked  serious.  Neither  faction  would  back 
down  or  retire  from  the  field,  as  that  would  leave  the 
other  faction  in  possession  of  the  church  property. 
The  older  and  more  conservative  element  stood  by 
the  pastor ;  the  newer  and  more  progressive,  that  in- 
cluded the  larger  portion  of  the  young  people,  stood 
by  Fairbanks  and  in  favor  of  a  choir  and  newer 
music.  It  was  the  main  topic  in  all  the  lesser  serv- 
ices of  the  church,  was  discussed  in  covenant  meet- 
ings and  was  prayed  over  in  prayer  meetings.  Sides 
were  lined  up  as  though  preparing  for  a  pitched 
battle.  The  reform  faction  grew  so  fierce  in  its 
demands  that  it  insisted  nothing  but  a  younger  pas- 


19°  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

tor  with  more  liberal  ideas  would  save  the  church. 
They  began  a  crusade  against  Doctor  Boggs,  began 
making  lists  and  counting  noses.  The  conservatives 
rallied  around  the  pastor;  declared  truth,  justice, 
and  religion  were  all  with  them,  and  that,  so  long 
as  God  was  on  their  side,  they  would  fight,  pray,  and 
sing  along  the  old  lines. 

In  all  this  controversy  Arabella  Somers  remained 
neutral.  She  constantly  and  persistently  endeav- 
ored to  effect  a  compromise  that  would  preserve  the 
church  and  keep  the  congregation  from  scattering. 
The  gossips,  who  thought  she  exhibited  a  fondness 
for  Fairbanks,  counted  her  with  the  "reformers,"  but 
the  "reformers"  themselves  contradicted  the  reports. 
Hooker,  as  in  all  other  things,  held  to  the  middle-of- 
the-road,  and  thus  worked  harmoniously  with  the 
young  woman.  To  make  matters  worse,  Doctor 
Boggs  was  taken  sick,  and  a  bright  young  man  from 
Colgate  University  came  on  as  a  supply.  He  was 
keen  and  clever,  and  the  "reformers"  took  every  ad- 
vantage of  the  fact  and  rallied  around  him.  They 
piloted  him  into  the  club,  where  he  heard  Fairbanks's 
quartette  and  the  violin,  and  expressed  himself  as 
greatly  delighted  with  the  music.  Then  they  raised 
the  clamor,  louder  and  louder,  for  a  younger  pastor, 
a  man  with  new  sermons  and  more  vigor.  The  very 
fact  of  Doctor  Boggs's  illness  was  used  as  an  argu- 
ment for  his  dismissal — it  was  an  evidence  of  age 
creeping  on  apace.  Some  of  the  antis  spread  the 
stories  of  the  Doctor's  severe  punishments  of  his 
children,  of  his  scattered  family,  of  his  whipping  of 
Sammy  in  the  Taylor,  and  Townsend,  and  Duck 


A    SPLIT    IN    THE    CHURCH  IQI 

Pond  cases.  They  spared  him  in  nothing,  even 
going  so  far  as  to  solicit  Sammy's  help  in  their  plans. 
They  coaxed  the  lad  into  admissions  that  proved 
exceedingly  unfortunate  for  him  and  that  served  to 
render  his  home  life  far  less  endurable  thereafter — 
but  it  was  always  thus  in  a  church  fight. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   CHURCH    FIRE 

It's  a  good  thing  to  always  keep  your  head,  even  under  ex- 
citement. If  it's  lost,  then  mebbe  your  only  chance  is  gone 
to  show  the  people  what  a  great,  and  wise,  and  beautiful 
head  you  really  had. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

The  progressive  faction  won  its  first  victory  when 
it  secured  a  majority  vote  of  the  trustees  in  favor  of 
the  painting  of  the  church.  It  was  in  the  month  of 
April,  and  the  painters  had  begun  their  work,  and 
the  "priming  coat,"  a  sickly  sort  of  yellow  ochre, 
was  already  well  over  the  steeple.  Sammy  Boggs 
had  no  sooner  gazed  upon  the  work  than  he  pre- 
dicted some  dire  calamity  to  the  edifice.  His  ears 
had  been  filled  at  home  with  the  details  of  the  church 
quarrel,  and  he  was  certain  now  it  was  going  to 
terminate  disastrously.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to 
communicate  his  fears  to  his  father,  who  said  he 
would  not  be  surprised  if  God,  in  some  manner,  vis- 
ited punishment  upon  the  heads  of  the  "extravagant 
reformers."  Others  who  heard  of  the  boy's  prophecy 
of  evil  because  of  the  color  of  the  paint  only  laughed, 
and  said  Sammy  Boggs  was  a  "Yellow  Kid,"  any- 
way, and  there  are  those  now  living  who  believe  this 
is  the  first  instance  where  the  term  was  ever  used  and 
that  it  is  the  true  origin  of  the  expression.  Be  this 


THE    CHURCH    FIRE  193 

as  it  may,  Sammy  was  not  obliged  to  live  long  to 
have  his  prophecy  fulfilled. 

A  great  storm  was  hanging  over  the  valley,  the 
heavens  were  dark  and  ominous,  the  thunderings 
grew  constantly  more  distinct,  and  the  flashes  of 
lightning  more  numerous  and  brilliant.  The  kinder- 
garten was  dismissed  early,  Arabella  had  gone  to 
her  dinner,  and  the  church  painters  had  left  their 
swinging  scaffolds.  The  very  buckets  of  heaven 
seemed  to  have  turned  over  in  the  downpour  of  rain 
that  struck  the  village  just  at  the  noon  hour.  The 
peals  of  thunder  were  now  boisterous,  and  the  light- 
ning played  sharply  in  the  vicinity.  The  teachers 
had  dismissed  school,  but  held  the  children  within 
the  building  to  await  the  passing  of  the  storm.  They 
were  at  the  windows  when  a  jagged  thunderbolt 
came  out  of  the  leaden  northern  sky  and  zig-zagged 
toward  the  spire  of  the  Baptist  Church.  A  moment 
later  the  steeple  was  in  flames. 

"Attention,  Company  A !"  shouted  Sammy  Boggs 
as  he  rushed  into  the  hallway  to  secure  the  church 
keys  from  "Persimmons  Bill,"  who  was  also  janitor 
of  the  school  building.  The  members  of  Company 
A  and  a  goodly  number  of  volunteers  followed 
Sammy.  They  secured  the  fire  buckets  and  ran  to 
the  burning  church,  crying  "Fire!  Fire!"  as  they 
ran.  Sam  was  first  to  reach  the  front  door,  un- 
locked it,  and  made  for  the  baptistry.  He  knew  it 
was  full  of  water,  and  he  raised  the  cover  and  began 
filling  the  buckets  to  pass  to  members  of  his  com- 
pany. Simmons  limped  along  after  the  boys  and 
began  ringing  the  bell  immediately  upon  his  arrival, 


194  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

and  this  brought  many  men  upon  the  scene.  A  line 
of  boys  and  men  was  formed  leading  from  the  bap- 
tistry out  through  the  vestry  and  up  the  stairs  to  the 
belfry.  The  volunteers  extended  down  a  second 
aisle  of  the  church  and  passed  back  the  empty 
buckets.  In  this  way  an  endless  chain  was  made 
that  kept  an  almost  constant  stream  of  water  play- 
ing upon  the  flames  and  that  checked  their  progress 
at  the  belfry  level.  The  rain  put  out  the  fire  upon 
the  outside  and  the  bucket  brigade  and  volunteers 
put  out  the  fire  upon  the  inside,  but  not  until  the 
steeple  had  been  charred  and  ruined.  Every  one 
present  declared  the  entire  structure  would  have 
burned  had  it  not  been  for  the  thoughtfulness  and 
generalship  of  Sammy  Boggs. 

The  storm  was  of  short  duration.  A  few  minutes 
past  one  o'clock  Sammy  reached  home,  wet  as  a 
drowned  rat,  and  all  dirt,  perspiration,  and  fairly 
exhausted.  His  father  evidently  had  not  located  the 
fire,  and  had  paid  little  if  any  attention  to  it.  He 
must  have  heard  the  church  bell,  but  the  church  bells 
were  usually  rung  on  such  occasions,  and  no  special 
importance  was  attached  to  it.  He  called  Sammy 
direct  to  the  study. 

"You're  a  pretty  picture.  Where  have  you  been  ?" 
he  demanded. 

"I've  been  to  the  fire;  I'd  think  you'd  know  it," 
was  the  response. 

"Well,  just  look  at  you,  your  school  clothes 
spoiled ;  I  want  you  to  know  there  are  grown  folks 
enough  in  this  town  to  take  care  of  the  fires.  You 
never  seem  to  learn  anything.  Here  it  is  past  your 


THE    CHURCH    FIRE  195 

school  time,  you've  not  had  your  dinner,  and  you 
have  your  clothes  to  change." 

"I  don't  see  as  your  helping  things  much,"  was 
Sammy's  reply  to  this.  "I  thought  I  was  doing 
something  you  would  be  glad  to  have  me  do,  but 
mebbe  you  wanted  the  dummed  thing  to  burn." 

"I  don't  care  what  burned,  you  had  no  business 
there,"  returned  the  irate  father. 

Sammy  recalled  what  his  father  had  said  about 
God's  just  punishment  of  the  extravagant  element  in 
the  church,  and  reasoned  that  his  father  wanted  the 
church  to  burn,  and  was  mad  because  he'd  tried  to 
save  it. 

Doctor  Boggs  whipped  the  poor  boy  as  hard  as 
ever,  and  Sammy  rebelled  harder  than  ever  before. 
He  told  his  father  he  would  surely  tell  his  church 
enemies  about  his  whipping,  just  why  he  was 
whipped,  and  how  mad  their  pastor  was  when  doing 
it;  how  angry  he  seemed  to  be  because  the  church 
was  saved.  He  said  it  was  the  last  time  he'd  ever 
be  licked  by  such  an  unreasonable  man,  and  he  would 
leave  home  that  very  day  and  never  return  until  he 
was  of  age.  All  this  caused  him  to  be  whipped 
the  harder. 

"Persimmons  Bill"  had  come  to  the  parsonage  for 
some  advice  as  to  what  had  best  be  done  at  the 
church ;  Mrs.  Haldane  had  come  over  to  congratu- 
late Mrs.  Boggs  on  having  such  a  son;  Benny  had 
reached  the  parsonage  to  extend  his  congratulations, 
and  Arabella  was  just  coming  through  the  gate, 
when  Sammy  rushed  out  of  the  study  door,  and 


I96  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

picked  up  a  rock  and  stood  ready  to  throw  it  at  his 
father,  from  whom  he  had  just  broken  away. 

"I  ought  to  kill  you  with  it !"  cried  he,  as  he  drew 
back  his  arm,  evidently  intending-  to  throw  it. 

"Persimmons  Bill"  caught  his  arm  and  took  the 
stone  from  his  hand. 

"The  old  fool  licked  me  'cause  I  helped  save  his 
church,"  said  Sam. 

Then  Mrs.  Boggs,  Arabella,  Mrs.  Haldane,  and 
Benny  all  rushed  for  the  study.  Mrs.  Boggs  had 
heard  the  news  of  the  fire  and  of  her  son's  splendid 
achievement.  She  ran  to  her  husband,  who  stood 
in  the  door,  and  throwing  up  her  hands  cried : 

"Great  heavens,  Samuel  Boggs,  have  you  gone 
crazy  ?" 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  boy  the  church  would 
have  burned  to  the  ground,"  said  Simmons. 

Then  Mrs.  Haldane,  Arabella  and  Benny  all 
began  at  once  to  tell  of  Sammy's  great  deed,  of  his 
quick  wits  in  thinking  of  the  baptistry,  of  the  alert- 
ness of  his  company  in  reaching  the  fire  and  extin- 
guishing it.  In  the  confusion  and  excitement  they 
failed  to  note  the  fact  that  Sammy  had  left  the  scene. 
Doctor  Boggs  was  completely  overcome,  and  seemed 
to  fully  realize,  the  position  he  had  all  too  hastily 
placed  himself  in.  He  feared  the  censure  of  the 
church  and  community.  Although  he  had  never 
done  it  before,  he  was  willing  now  to  acknowledge 
his  error  to  the  boy  and  seek  a  reconciliation ;  would 
ask  his  forgiveness  and  try  and  make  all  as  nearly 
right  as  possible.  He  told  this  to  Arabella,  who 
reasoned  with  him  kindly  and  pointed  out  his  error 


THE    CHURCH    FIRE  197 

with  words  that  had  no  malice  in  them.  The  Doctor 
sent  Arabella  to  call  the  boy,  but  when  she  searched 
and  inquired  for  him  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found; 
no  one  had  seen  him  since  Simmons  stayed  his  angry 
hand.  Arabella  went  up  to  his  room,  but  he  was 
not  there,  although  there  were  certain  evidences  he 
had  been  there.  His  spelling  book  was  open  on  the 
table  and  the  stub  of  a  lead  pencil  was  upon  the  front 
fly  leaf.  Sammy  had  written  a  message  and  Ara- 
bella took  up  the  book  and  quickly  read  it.  It  was 
as  follows: 

"Dear  Miss  Bella,  Mama  and  Roger; 

"I  can't  live  here  no  longer.  I  am  going  away  until  I  am  a 
man.  Then  I  will  come  back  to  see  you,  but  not  till  then.  I 
will  be  a  good  boy.  When  this  you  see,  remember  me.  I  love 
you  three. 

"SAMMY  BOGGS." 

Arabella  realized  that  the  boy  had  carried  out  his 
threat  to  leave  home,  and  she  knew  his  resolute  dis- 
position. She  sat  upon  his  bed  for  a  moment  and 
cried  as  though  her  heart  would  break;  then  she 
replaced  the  book  and  pencil,  thinking  he  could  not 
have  gone  far  and  might  possibly  be  overtaken  in 
an  hour  or  two.  She  sent  the  callers  in  many  direc- 
tions, but  they  all  returned,  saying  no  one  had  seen 
him  or  heard  from  him.  She  told  Fairbanks  of  the 
note  and  solicited  his  aid.  Sammy  had  never  talked 
about  leaving  home,  but  that  he  said  he  should  go 
first  to  Chili  Station  and  then  to  Rochester,  and 
when  she  told  this  to  Fairbanks  he  borrowed  a  horse 
and  drove  to  the  Station,  making  inquiries  as  he 
went.  He  came  back  after  dark  without  the  boy  or 


198  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

any  trace  of  him.  The  news  of  the  fire,  of  Sammy's 
whipping,  and  of  his  disappearance  spread  rapidly. 
Doctor  Boggs  was  denounced  and  censured  as  never 
before,  and  threats  were  even  made  against  his  per- 
son. The  town  was  all  wrought  up  over  it.  The 
progressive  faction  in  the  church  straightway  made 
a  handle  of  it.  If  the  pastor  was  not  otherwise 
unworthy,  this  last  unnatural  and  inhuman  act  had 
furnished  cause  sufficient  for  his  removal,  and  they 
were  sure  now  of  victory.  The  more  active  of  the 
pastor's  opponents  lost  no  time  or  occasion  to  repeat 
the  story  of  Sammy's  punishment,  of  how  he  was 
driven  from  home  because  he  saved  the  church,  and 
the  story  grew  a  bit  more  tragic  and  exaggerated 
every  time  it  was  told.  Doctor  Boggs  was  penitent 
and  prostrated.  He  shut  himself  up  in  his  room 
and  persistently  refused  to  see  any  one  but  his  wife, 
his  son  Judson,  and  Arabella.  These  tried  to  com- 
fort him,  and  Arabella  lost  no  time  in  informing  the 
turbulent  community  of  his  sad  condition.  The 
regular  prayer  meeting  was  without  the  Doctor's 
leadership  that  week  and  was  adjourned  early — 
after  Deacon  Haldane  had  offered  a  most  fervent 
prayer  for  the  recovery  of  the  pastor,  the  unity  of 
his  people,  Divine  light  sufficient  for  times  of  dark- 
ness and  trial,  and  thanks  for  the  preservation  of  the 
house  of  worship. 

Fairbanks  was  only  restrained  from  publishing  in 
the  Banner  an  account  of  Sammy  Boggs's  whipping 
and  departure,  with  comments,  through  the  kindly 
intervention  of  Arabella.  She  wrote  the  account  of 
the  fire  herself,  and  gave  the  captain  of  Company  A 


THE    CHURCH    FIRE  199 

all  credit  for  the  saving  of  the  church,  and  added 
comments  upon  the  necessity  for  adequate  fire  pro- 
tection in  the  village.  There  was  not  one  word 
regarding  the  disappearance  of  Sammy  Boggs  in  the 
article,  and  she  felt  certain  that  was  just  as  well,  for 
no  doubt  the  boy  would  be  located  within  a  few  days. 

Doctor  Boggs,  however,  caused  a  somewhat 
lengthy  card  to  be  inserted  in  the  paper,  saying  he 
would  be  glad  of  any  information  that  would  lead 
to  the  location  of  his  son,  acknowledging  his  mistake 
in  a  public  manner,  and  begging  his  enemies  and 
friends  to  bear  with  him  in  his  hour  of  deep  afflic- 
tion, "as  his  punishment  was  most  severe  and  had 
served  to  open  his  eyes  to  several  of  his  personal 
mistakes." 

It  was  a  card  of  humiliation,  and  many  argued 
that,  no  matter  what  he  might  do  thereafter,  he 
could  never  regain  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the 
community ;  that  it  was  a  crushing  mistake,  and  the 
acknowledgment  of  weakness  would  surely  kill  his 
future  usefulness,  if  he  had  any  promise  of  it.  This 
would  undoubtedly  have  proved  true  but  for  the  per- 
sistent and  well-directed  efforts  of  Arabella,  Jud  and 
Mr.  Hooker,  who,  in  season  and  out  of  season, 
strove  to  disarm  the  pastor's  opponents  of  thefir 
weapons. 

There  were  no  services  in  the  church  the  follow- 
ing Sabbath;  but  a  week  later  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel 
E.  Boggs  preached  a  powerful  sermon  upon  child- 
training,  acknowledged  his  mistakes,  and  declared 
there  was  rarely,  if  ever,  any  occasion  calling  for  the 
administration  of  corporal  punishment.  He  could 


200  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

think  of  no  occasion  that  would  demand  it  of  Chris- 
tian parents.  He  was  in  a  position  to  give  advice 
from  his  own  experience,  and  said  he  had  never  been 
so  much  in  the  wrong  as  when  he  opposed  harmless 
amusements  for  children.  The  club,  instead  of 
being  an  instrument  of  the  Devil,  had  wrought  such 
an  apparent  change  in  the  young  men  of  Batesville 
as  to  make  his  opposition  to  it  absolutely  untenable. 
Hereafter  he  was  not  going  to  stand  aloof  from  it, 
but  was  going  to  stand  by  it,  participate  in  its 
pleasures  and  benefits,  and  try  to  assist  in  any  good 
work  it  had  to  do.  He  believed  in  healthy  progress 
and  hoped  his  congregation  would  get  into  harmony 
with  the  spirit  of  progress  that  was  pervading  the 
town.  He  begged  the  older  and  more  conservative 
members  of  his  church  to  yield  something  of  their 
opinions,  and  begged  the  younger  and  more  pro- 
gressive to  move  forward  cautiously  and  to  take 
counsel  of  their  elders.  He  was  in  a  conciliatory 
mood,  and  great  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks  as  he 
spoke.-  As  for  himself,  he  said,  he  would  never 
again  oppose  the  introduction  of  quartette  singing 
in  his  church  when  the  members  of  the  quartette 
were  professing  Christians,  or  their  hearts  were  in 
harmony  with  the  expressions  of  their  lips;  and  he 
had  assurances  from  those  who  favored  the  quartette 
that  the  congregation  was  never  to  be  deprived  of  its 
ancient  privileges,  and  would  be  given  opportunity 
to  render  the  good  old-fashioned  hymns  the  same  as 
usual.  When  the  Doctor  had  concluded  the  dis- 
course Fairbanks  was  first  to  gain  his  feet.  He 


THE   CHURCH   FIRE  2OI 

rushed  to  the  platform,  took  his  pastor  by  the  hand, 
and  cried  aloud,  "God  bless  you !"  He  then  turned 
to  the  congregation  and  said,  "You  will  all  please 
arise  and  sing  with  me,  'Praise  God  from  whom  all 
blessings  flow.' '  The  congregation  sang  as  never 
before. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SAMMY,  LEAVES    HOME 

Most  brilliant  gems  are  of'en  picked  from  the  meanest  of 
mud.  I  once  found  the  two  best  people  in  the  world  on  an  old 
canal  boat.  Since  then  I  don't  judge  things  entirely  by  their 
settin's,  and  I  don't  b'lieve  it's  safe  to  do  it. —  Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

After  his  chastisement  Sammy  went  straight  to 
his  room,  wrote  his  farewell  letter,  took  an  extra 
pair  of  stockings  from  the  commode  drawer  and 
tucked  them  inside  his  waist.  He  had  left  his  school 
jacket  upon  a  chair  in  the  study,  where  he  removed 
it  at  his  father's  demand,  so  he  took  down  his  Sun- 
day coat  and  slipped  it  on,  stole  down  the  front  stairs 
and  out  the  door.  Here  he  stopped  and  hesitated 
for  a  moment,  retraced  his  steps  in  part,  and  entered 
the  parlor.  He  wanted  to  kiss  mother  and  Roger 
and  say  good-by  to  them,  but  knew  that  would  reveal 
his  plan  and  possibly  thwart  his  purpose.  He  con- 
tented himself  instead  by  taking  their  pictures  from 
the  big  family  album,  and  he  wound  the  stockings 
around  them  and  tucked  them  close  to  his  heart  in- 
side his  bosom.  Then  he  passed  out  the  door  again, 
crossed  over  into  Hopkins's  orchard,  and  followed 
exactly  the  same  route  out  of  town  that  he,  Abram 
and  Benny  had  taken  the  ill-starred  Christmas  Day 
they  visited  Duck  Pond.  He  kept  in  the  woods  as 


SAMMY    LEAVES    HOME  203 

much  as  possible,  going  north  and  east  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Rochester,  and  avoiding  the  highways.  He 
could  see  the  church  spires  of  Chili  as  he  crossed  the 
New  York  Central  tracks,  and  the  sun  was  fast  sink- 
ing behind  them.  He  sat  down  and  watched  the 
section  men  at  their  work,  and  thought  he  might  ride 
with  them  upon  the  hand-car  as  far  as  the  big  city; 
but  when  they  gathered  up  their  tools  and  tin  pails 
and  placed  their  car  upon  the  rails  they  started  off 
in  the  opposite  direction.  Then  he  entered  a 
farmer's  lane  and  followed  the  returning  cattle  as 
far  as  an  old  straw-stack.  Here  again  he  paused 
and  thought.  He  crept  into  the  south  side  of  the 
stack,  that  seemed  the  warmest ;  pulled  out  some  of 
the  cleanest  straw  and  made  a  bed  where  the  cattle 
had  fed  and  the  swine  had  slept,  laid  down  and 
pulled  more  straw  out  for  his  coverlet,  and  went  to 
sleep.  It  was  dark  and  the  stars  were  all  out  when 
he  wakened,  so  he  decided  to  go  without  supper, 
although  he  had  not  tasted  food  since  breakfast. 
He  would  try  to  sleep  and  forget  his  hunger  and 
would  get  an  early  start  the  next  morning.  It  was 
a  long,  lonely  and  thoughtful  night  for  Sammy,  and 
through  it  he  learned  that  it  is  nearly  as  hard  to 
sleep  on  an  empty  stomach  as  it  is  to  do  an  honest 
piece  of  work  under  like  conditions.  He  counted 
stars  and  laid  plans  nearly  all  the  night  through. 
He  decided  he  would  take  the  name  of  Sammy 
Smith,  it  was  so  common;  would  represent  himself 
an  orphan  seeking  work  at  first  and  a  home  later  on, 
when  farther  distant  from  Batesville.  He  comforted 
himself  with  the  thought  he  was  not  the  first  in  the 


204  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

family  to  thus  leave  home,  and  if  his  parents  did  not 
worry  over  him  more  than  they  did  over  the  others, 
his  going  would  give  them  little  unrest. 

At  daybreak  he  crawled  out,  nearly  starved,  and 
started  upon  his  journey  northward.  He  passed  the 
buildings  of  the  farmer  who  owned  his  lodging- 
place,  for  he  was  too  timid  to  stop  and  ask  for  a 
breakfast.  His  hunger  grew  as  he  walked  on,  and 
as  is  the  case  with  other  roving  animals,  it  made  him 
bold.  When  he  saw  a  woman  step  out  of  a  farm- 
house door  and  blow  a  horn  he  knew  she  was  calling 
the  men  from  their  chores  about  the  barn,  and  he 
guessed  there  was  something  warm  to  eat  in  that 
kitchen.  He  sauntered  up  to  the  back  door,  where 
a  big,  burly  man,  with  a  large  crop  of  hair  on  his 
head  and  face,  stood  washing  his  hands  at  a  wooden 
rain  trough. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Sammy;  "can  you  tell  me 
how  far  it  is  to  Rochester  ?" 

"Why,  you  hevn't  started  fer  there  this  mornin?, 
hev  ye  ?"  asked  his  whiskers. 

"Yep,  if  I  can't  get  nothin'  to  do  this  side  of 
there." 

"Wall,  it's  a  heap  sight  further'n  a  lad  your  size 
kin  walk  in  a  day,"  said  the  farmer. 

"I  don't  s'pose  you'd  mind  givin'  a  hungry  kid  a 
drink  of  water,"  said  Sam,  with  much  hesitation. 

"A  hungry  kid  better  have  food  if  he's  goin'  to 
walk  so  fur.  Water  sploshes  about  and  rattles  some 
when  a  feller's  trav'lin'  empty.  You  step  into  the 
house  there  and  get  a  little  so'thin'  to  wash  down 
with  the  water." 


SAMMY    LEAVES    HOME  205 

Sam  stepped  in,  and  the  bewhiskered  giant  fol- 
lowed him. 

"I  want  yer  to  fill  this  boy  up  full,  Miranda,  so's 
he  kin  do  a  heap  of  trav'lin'  afore  night.  I  don't 
want  any  of  them  mule-killers  to  be  foolin'  round 
here  long,  or  to  be  close  by,  neither." 

"I  ain't  no  mule-killer,  if  that's  me  he  means," 
said  Sam  as  they  all  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

"You  can't  fool  me,"  drawled  the  head  of  the 
household.  "I  kin  tell  a  canal  kid  as  fur  as  I  can 
see  him.  You're  all  a  lot  of  thieves,  an'  liars,  an'  I 
wouldn't  trust  one  of  ye  as  fur's  I  could  throw  a 
beef  critter  by  the  tail.  I  wouldn't  be  s'prised  if 
ye'd  had  two  squar'  meals  already  this  mornin',  but 
it's  all  the  same  to  me.  I  want  yer  to  fill  up  an' 
shake  jist  as  much  dust  from  yer  heels  as  yer  kin 
afore  night." 

Sam  protested  he  was  not  a  "canal  kid,"  that  he 
had  never  seen  a  canal  in  his  life  and  didn't  know 
what  one  looked  like,  and  "didn't  s'pose  there  was 
any  canal  nearby."  He  proved  beyond  any  shadow 
of  a  doubt  by  the  way  he  ate  and  the  amount  he  ate 
that  the  farmer  was  wrong  in  one  guess. 

"There  ain't  any  canal  so  very  near,"  said  the 
farmer,  "but  I  needn't  tell  you  the  Erie's  only  twenty 
miles  away.  You  chaps  are  purty  good  on  your  legs 
an'  you  sometimes  git  too  fur  in  the  back  country 
an'  make  things  purty  lively  for  us  honest  folks.  We 
had  one  'sperience  with  a  canal  chap,  didn't  we,  ma ; 
and  we  brought  him  over  from  Spencerport  to  steal 
us  nearly  blind." 

Miranda  and  the  farm  help  thought  the  landlord 


206  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

was  doing  the  stranger  great  injustice,  and  so  ex- 
pressed themselves.  The  wife  prevailed  upon  her 
husband  to  give  the  "poor  orphan"  a  chance,  and 
after  the  photos  of  Mrs.  Boggs  and  Roger  had  been 
passed  around  the  table,  the  farmer  promised  to 
keep  the  lad  on  trial  for  a  week;  but  said  he  must 
work  with  him  and  never  get  out  of  his  sight  in  the 
day  time,  and  must  sleep  with  one  of  the  men  in  the 
barn  at  night. 

After  the  squarest  meal  Samuel  Boggs  had  ever 
eaten,  and  the  first  this  particular  "Sammy  Smith" 
had  partaken  of,  he  was  invited  to  pick  up  an  empty 
jug  and  follow  the  farmer  to  the  woods  lot,  where 
he  was  engaged  in  clearing.  They  had  worked  a 
brief  half  hour,  the  farmer  at  cutting  and  Sammy  at 
piling  brush,  when  Sam  complained  of  thirst. 

"I'll  go  and  show  yer  the  way  ter  the  spring  onct," 
said  the  farmer  as  he  picked  up  the  big  brown  jug. 

"I  guess  I  kin  find  it  if  you'll  point  the  way  an' 
tell  me  some,"  said  Sam. 

The  farmer  pointed  and  directed,  and  Sam  took 
the  jug  from  his  hand  and  started  for  the  spring. 
He  found  the  natural  fountain  easy  enough,  dipped 
up  some  of  the  delicious  water  in  his  hat,  and  took 
several  long  draughts.  He  did  not  wait  to  fill  the 
jug;  and  the  farmer,  then  only  partially  trustful, 
would  be  waiting  still  if  he  looked  to  Sammy  Smith 
for  his  water  supply,  and  he  would  now  be  about  as 
dry  as  an  Egyptian  mummy.  Sam  climbed  the 
fence  at  the  spring  and  was  soon  out  of  sight  in  the 
woods.  He  shook  the  dust  rapidly  for  the  first  mile, 
but  then  settled  down  to  a  slower  gait,  and  traveled 


SAMMY    LEAVES    HOME  207 

northward  until  nearly  noon.  He  decided  he  was 
far  enough  away  from  home  now  to  travel  as  other 
people  did,  and  he  sought  the  highway,  where  he 
could  make  better  progress.  When  the  sun  was 
highest  he  laid  down  under  some  bushes  at  the  road 
side  and  fell  asleep. 

He  was  awakened  by  the  passing  of  a  team  and 
the  rattling  of  a  heavy  wagon,  and  as  he  rubbed  his 
eyes  he  asked  the  farmer  driving  the  distance  to 
Spencerport,  and  the  direction.  The  conversation 
of  the  morning  had  put  some  new  ideas  into  his 
head.  He  knew  the  Erie  Canal  went  through 
Rochester,  for  he  had  heard  Jud  and  the  boys  tell 
about  it;  and  he  knew  from  the  farmer  who  gave 
him  his  breakfast  that  it  also  went  through  Spencer- 
port,  some  ten  miles  away.  Much  to  his  joy,  he  was 
invited  to  ride  along  for  company  by  the  farmer.  It 
is  not  easy  riding  upon  a  load  of  grain  where  there 
are  no  springs  under  the  wagon-box  or  the  seat,  but 
it  was  so  comfortable  for  Sam,  with  his  swollen  feet 
and  tired  limbs,  that  he  slept  upon  the  bags  for  more 
than  half  the  distance,  and  breathed  the  air  through 
an  old  felt  hat  that  served  to  keep  the  sun  from  his 
already  burning  face.  Sam  assisted  the  farmer  in 
unloading  the  wheat  at  the  elevator,  and  the  man 
was  kind  enough  to  give  him  a  supper  at  a  cheap 
tavern  where  there  was  much  tobacco  smoke  and 
some  drunkenness.  The  boy  slept  in  the  wagon 
under  a  mill  shed  that  night,  and  slept  soundly.  The 
third  day  he  followed  the  tow-path  and  inquired  for 
work  of  every  east-bound  craft.  An  "independent 
double-header,"  loaded  with  lumber,  was  snubbed 


208  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

near  the  bank,  that  the  mules  might  be  changed,  and 
when  the  captain  was  not  looking  Sam  jumped 
aboard  and  went  down  the  hatch  of  the  boat  nearest 
the  berme  bank.  The  captain  found  him  in  the 
cook's  quarters  a  little  later,  when  they  were  under 
way,  and  agreed  to  take  him  as  far  as  Rochester  if 
he  would  "stand  by  and  help  unload"  after  their 
arrival.  Sam  promised,  and  the  cook  marveled  at 
the  new  hand's  appetite  as  he  stowed  away  griddle 
cakes  and  bacon  at  dinner  that  day. 

It  was  dark  when  the  double-header  passed 
through  the  great  cut-stone  aqueduct  spanning  the 
Genesee  River,  and  the  traveler  first  realized  he  was 
at  the  goal  of  all  his  transient  dreams — the  city  of 
Rochester.  He  slept  in  a  bunk  of  the  canal  boat 
that  night,  and  the  forenoon  of  the  fourth  day  out 
he  worked  his  hands  full  of  slivers  in  shoving  lum- 
ber to  pay  for  his  passage,  board  and  lodging.  The 
canal  was  exceedingly  interesting  to  Sam,  and  there 
was  much  about  the  happy-go-lucky  life  afloat  that 
attracted  him.  He  went  to  the  offices  and  stables 
of  the  towing  and  packet  companies  and  applied  for 
work.  He  learned  at  the  company's  stables  that 
drivers  remained  with  their  teams  and  were  never 
more  than  a  day's  journey  away  from  the  starting 
point — they  would  go  out  one  day  only  to  return  the 
next — while  the  "independents"  carried  their  relays 
with  them  and  the  drivers  covered  the  entire  distance 
the  tow  covered.  He  wanted  to  travel  far,  and  so 
looked  for  the  independents,  that  were  few  in  num- 
ber in  the  days  of  expanding  enterprise  and  corpor- 
ate organization  following  the  great  civil  war.  He 


SAMMY   LEAVES    HOME  209 

hung  around  the  stables  the  remainder  of  the  day 
and  permitted  no  individual  owner  to  pass  east- 
bound  with  his  tow  without  making  inquiry  for 
passage  and  work.  Late  in  the  day  he  met  a  boy 
who  was  limping,  and  who  said  he'd  "been  fired 
from  a  freighter  that  was  tied  up  just  below  the 
city."  Sam  asked  the  name  of  the  tow  and  the 
captain. 

"They's  Cap  Larkin's  'Gold  Spoon'  and  'Gold 
Horn/  "  said  the  boy.  They're  tied  about  a  mile 
down.  The  Cap's  all  right  when  he's  sober,  but  he 
don't  know  enough  to  jump  out  a  mule  when  he's 
bin  drinkin'.  He  never  passes  down  Rochester  but 
he  goes  to  the  joints  an'  helps  the  proprietor  to  lift 
schooners  over  the  bar  some.  He  unloads  several 
afore  he  quits  the  job  ginerally.  The  old  man's  shy 
a  steersman  an'  the  boys  have  tied  up  the  twins  for 
the  night  waitin'  fer  him  to  git  sober  'nough  to  take 
a  helm  in  the  mornin'." 

Sam  hastened  his  pace,  and  soon  came  upon  the 
tow  described.  Six  mules  were  feeding  from  their 
trough  just  off  the  tow-path,  and  a  boy  was  near 
them.  There  were  broad  yellow  bands  running 
around  the  boats,  and  the  names  were  painted  in 
black  letters  upon  their  sterns — "The  Golden  Spoon" 
and  "The  Golden  Horn."  Sam  did  not  like  the 
yellow  bands  or  the  "yellow  names"  and  said  he'd 
bet  the  boats  had  never  paid  and  the  crew  generally 
had  bad  luck. 

"Where  ye  headed?"  asked  the  boy  of  Sammy. 

"Nowheres  in  partic'lar,"  answered  Sam. 

"What's  yer  name?" 


210  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

"Sam  Smith;  an'  what's  yourn?" 

"Bill  Briggs ;  but  the  boss  calls  me  'ShufF  mostly 
— that's  the  short  for  'Shuffle  Heels/  I  s'pose." 

"Where's  the  boss?" 

"Drunk  aboard  the  'Spoon.'  What'd  you  want 
to  know  fer?" 

"I  want  work;  want  to  work  my  way  east." 

"Whereto?" 

"Anywhere,  I  don't  care  where;  New  York,  I 
guess." 

"Did  yer  ever  scuM?" 

"Ever  what?" 

"Steer ;  twist  her  nose ;  handle  the  rudder  ?" 

"No,  I  never  done  any  of  them  things." 

"Did  yer  ever  heel-and-toe  it?" 

"What?" 

"Did  yer  ever  skin  mules  with  a  black  snake?" 

"I  never  skinned  a  mule  with  anythin',"  answered 
Sam. 

"I  mean  did  yer  ever  drive  on  the  path?"  said 
"Shuff"  Briggs. 

"I  never  did ;  but  that's  what  I  want  to  do. 

"If  yer  never  did,  yer  no  good,"  said  "Shuff"  as 
he  tried  to  drown  a  mule  with  one  flood  of  tobacco 
juice.  "The  Cap  won't  take  yer;  he  just  shoved  off 
a  greeny  an  hour  ago.  He  wants  a  feller  like  me, 
what  knows  mules  an'  can  make  time.  He  don't 
want  no  white-livered  chap." 

Sammy  said  he  didn't  have  a  white  liver ;  that  he 
was  willing  to  learn  and  was  mighty  anxious  to  get 
a  place;  that  his  father  and  mother  were  both  dead 
and  he'd  been  kicked  around  a  good  deal. 


SAMMY   LEAVES   HOME  21 1 

The  statement  touched  a  sympathetic  chord  in  Billy 
Briggs's  heart.  He  said  he'd  never  had  any  father 
or  mother  either,  so  far  as  he  knew,  and  he  guessed 
he'd  been  kicked  around  harder'n  most  boys  thirteen 
years  old;  and  he'd  been  kicked  harder  on  the  canal 
than  other  boys  who'd  stayed  at  it.  He  told  Sammy 
he  would  get  a  supper  and  bed  for  him  that  night 
anyway,  and  in  the  morning  he  could  talk  with  Cap- 
tain Larkins. 

The  next  morning  the  Captain  stormed  the  castles 
early,  routed  out  everybody  at  daylight,  cussed  and 
swore  considerably  because  they'd  been  "hitched  to 
the  bank"  so  long,  and  said  they'd  have  to  cover  some 
water  that  day  or  he'd  know  the  reason  why.  He 
was  shy  a  boy  and  would  have  to  have  one  or  do 
some  "mule  poundin' "  himself,  the  other  hands 
were  so  set  against  the  path.  "Shuff"  told  him  of 
Sammy,  and  the  Captain  looked  into  Sam's  eyes  and 
felt  of  his  leg  muscles  and  said  he'd  try  him.  They 
were  under  way  at  5  o'clock,  and  while  "Shuff" 
Briggs  was  "shoving  the  rabbits,"  Sam  was  up  for- 
ward with  Mrs.  Larkins  receiving  his  first  lesson  in 
canal  navigation.  The  woman  told  him  all  she  knew 
about  handling  a  pair  from  a  driver's  standpoint,  or 
moving  point.  She  had  pulled  off  her  shoes  and 
done  stunts  with  the  whip  many  a  time  when  they 
were  short  a  boy,  and  knew  what  she  was  talking 
about.  She  talked  of  mules,  and  locks,  and  snubbin' 
posts,  and  lights;  and  told  Sam  just  what  to  do  in 
passing  another  tow,  how  to  divide  the  drag  at  the 
double  locks  and  how  to  get  them  through  a  single — 


212  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

and  a  thousand  things  more  than  the  pupil  thought 
he  could  possibly  remember. 

When  it  came  time  to  "jump  out"  the  fresh  mules, 
Sam  went  on  the  tow-path  with  "Snuff"  and  took 
lessons  from  him  until  they  had  been  locked  down 
twice.  Then  "Shuff"  told  him  he  better  go  aboard 
and  get  some  rest,  as  the  Cap'n  was  liable  to  give 
him  a  turn  on  the  "Fairport  level."  "Shuff"  was 
quite  correct  in  this,  and  Sammy  handled  the  team 
and  tow  line  in  fine  form  for  at  least  one-half  the 
distance  covering  the  "level."  After  that  he  was 
given  the  easier  stunts  on  straight  stretches  where 
there  were  no  locks  and  all  was  clear  sailing  for  the 
mules.  All  went  well  until  near  the  close  of  the 
second  day.  They  had  passed  Lock  Berlin  and 
Clyde,  "Shuff"  driving,  and  were  approaching  the 
Montezuma  marshes,  when  Sam  took  three  fresh 
mules  and  started  upon  what  was  represented  as  an 
easy  shift.  The  air  was  spring-like,  the  frogs  were 
carolling  their  evening  songs,  and  the  mosquitoes, 
the  first  crop  of  the  year,  were  swarming  the  tow- 
path  and  threatening  to  eat  up  Sam  and  the  mules. 
The  animals,  usually  patient  and  always  thick- 
skinned,  showed  many  signs  of  restlessness  and  dis- 
comfort, and  Sam  had  difficulty  in  keeping  them  at 
their  work  and  keeping  the  tow-line  taut.  The  guide 
mule  stopped  and  kicked  viciously  at  Sammy  once 
when  he  approached  to  goad  him  onward.  A  packet- 
boat  hove  in  sight  ahead,  with  three  splendid  horses 
on  the  line  at  a  good  trot.  The  horses  had  passed, 
when  the  mules  became  frightened  at  a  flapping 
piece  of  bunting  on  the  packet's  bow.  They  whirled 


SAMMY   LEAVES    HOME  213 

around  and  fouled  in  their  traces  as  they  did  so,  and 
the  guide  mule  lost  his  footing,  tumbled  over,  and 
rolled  into  the  canal,  dragging  the  other  mules  with 
him.  Two  of  the  animals  were  rescued,  but  "Old 
Dock,"  the  favorite  of  the  tow,  and  a  mule  with  a 
history  from  Albany  to  Buffalo,  was  drowned. 
Captain  Larkins  was  at  the  helm  and  saw  the  acci- 
dent. He  swore  like  a  pirate,  swung  his  arms  and 
acted  like  a  madman.  He  sent  Sam  to  his  bunk  and 
said  he  wasn't  fit  to  drive  geese  to  water,  to  say  noth- 
ing about  mules,  and  he  could  leave  the  tow  at  Syra- 
cuse, or  sooner  if  he  liked. 

Sammy  lay  in  a  hammock  that  was  swung  in  the 
stable  that  night,  and  slept  but  little.  The  accident 
had  given  him  a  severe  headache,  his  bones  also 
ached,  and  he  was  never  before  so  lonely,  homesick, 
tired  and  discouraged.  He  wished  many  times  he 
had  suffered  the  fate  of  "Old  Dock" ;  he  longed  to 
be  back  in  Batesville  as  many  times  as  he  counted 
stars  or  as  the  mules  stamped  to  keep  off  the  pesky 
mosquitoes.  Long  before  the  sun  was  up  he  had 
concluded  no  luck  could  come  to  him  or  to  any  one 
else  aboard  a  double-header  with  yellow  stripes  and 
yellow  names,  and  that  immediately  after  breakfast 
he  would  go  ashore  and  seek  employment  of  some 
eastbound  craft  of  better  color.  He  carried  out  this 
plan,  and  after  walking  as  far  as  Port  Byron  he 
secured  passage  to  Syracuse.  Nearly  every  tow  he 
passed  called  out  to  him,  "Say,  boy,  are  you  the  chap 
that  drowned  'Old  Dock'  ?" 

The  news  of  ill  luck  on  the  Erie  Canal  traveled  as 
fast  as  packets  could  go  in  those  days. 


214  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Sam  hired  out  to  the  captain  of  an  independent 
freighter  in  Syracuse.  It  was  plying  between  that 
city,  Utica  and  Binghamton,  over  the  Chenango 
feeder  from  Utica.  It  was  a  respectable  tow,  and 
a  kind  and  cheerful  captain  was  in  charge,  who  never 
swore  at  his  help  or  the  mules,  and  who  was  almost 
constantly  whistling  or  singing.  His  wife  kept  as 
neat  and  clean  a  cabin  as  ever  floated  on  the  Erie  or 
Chenango.  Everything  placed  before  the  crew  to 
eat  was  wholesome  and  good  and  well  cooked;  the 
bunks  were  soft  and  the  sheets  and  slips  were  clean 
and  white.  Sam  became  much  attached  to  Captain 
Stoner  and  his  wife  at  the  very  outset,  and  thought 
he  would  like  to  remain  with  them  as  long  as  he 
lived.  Mrs.  Stoner  washed  out  his  clothing  and 
gave  him  a  towel  and  a  cake  of  soap,  and  winked  to 
him  as  she  pointed  a  thumb  toward  the  water  before 
he  went  to  his  bunk  the  first  night.  His  trousers 
were  mended  and  the  buttons  were  all  on  tight  when 
he  dressed  the  next  morning.  He  had  not  sailed  a 
day  before  he  "accidentally"  opened  the  door  of  the 
canary's  cage  and  let  out  the  songster  of  yellow  hue. 
The  bird  soon  came  back  to  its  mistress,  lighted  on 
her  hair,  and  refused  to  accept  his  freedom.  Sam 
didn't  blame  him,  but  hoped  many  times  the  bird 
would  bring  no  harm  to  the  tow  or  its  crew,  and  no 
ill  luck  to  him. 

Later  that  day,  just  as  he  expected,  the  bad  news 
came.  Mrs.  Stoner  told  him  they  did  not  own  the 
boats,  that  they  did  not  own  anything  on  the  canal, 
and  it  was  their  last  trip ;  they  were  going  to  pack  up 
in  Binghamton  and  were  going  to  Pennsylvania, 


SAMMY  LEAVES  HOME  21$ 

where  the  Captain's  brother  was  an  engineer  in  a 
great  coal  mine  and  where  he  had  secured  a  place 
for  the  Captain  as  his  assistant.  They  expected  to 
leave  for  Wilkesbarre  on  the  following  Monday,  just 
as  soon  as  they  could  take  their  things  out  of  stor- 
age. Sam  thought  he  could  have  learned  as  much 
from  the  "yellow  bird."  From  that  hour  he  was 
inexpressibly  sad,  and  he  began  begging  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Stoner  to  take  him  with  them;  promised 
to  work  faithfully  and  to  give  them  all  his  earn- 
ings— promised  everything  that  a  boy  could  promise. 
He  cried  as  he  begged,  and  when  he  presented  the 
picture  of  his  mother  and  Roger  and  told  how  his 
mother  followed  his  father  to  the  tomb,  and  how 
Roger  had  been  taken  away  he  knew  not  where, 
Mrs.  Stoner  cried  and  said  she  was  willing  to  take 
the  responsibility  if  the  Captain  was.  The  two 
easily  prevailed  upon  the  big-hearted  Captain,  and 
ten  days  later  the  three  were  settled  in  a  comforta- 
ble cabin  in  a  mining  camp  of  the  Reading  Company, 
and  the  Captain  was  installed  as  assistant  engineer 
in  the  power  house.  Sam  concluded  the  canary  bird 
was,  after  all,  too  wee  a  bit  of  yellow  to  cause  much 
harm.  The  bird  went  with  them  into  the  new  home. 
The  operation  of  a  great  anthracite  coal  mine  and 
its  machinery  was  at  first  wonderfully  fascinating  to 
Sammy,  but  the  problem  of  what  part  he  was  to  play 
in  the  great  field  of  operations  was  puzzling  not  only 
to  him  but  to  his  new  foster  parents  as  well.  They 
did  not  desire  him  to  work  with  the  rough  and  un- 
couth boys  in  the  breaker-house,  but  realized  he  must 
have  something  to  do. 


2l6  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Sam  visited  the  breaker-house  every  day  and 
watched  the  lads  at  their  work;  thought  he  was  no 
better  than  they  were,  was  sure  he  could  do  the  work 
as  well  as  any,  and  so  sought  and  obtained  employ- 
ment. He  was  to  work  ten  hours  a  day,  was  to 
receive  six  cents  an  hour,  and  was  to  give  one-half 
his  wages  to  Mrs.  Stoner  in  payment  for  his  board 
and  lodging.  As  dreary  and  dark  and  monotonous 
as  this  life  might  seem  to  others,  Sammy  Boggs's 
home  surroundings  were  so  cheerful,  clean  and  com- 
fortable that  he  never  made  complaint  and  seldom, 
if  ever,  thought  of  exchanging  them  for  the  old  life 
at  home.  Captain  Stoner  always  accompanied  him 
to  the  cabin  at  night,  and  the  two  whistled  or  sang 
as  they  approached  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Stoner  usually 
joined  with  them  as  she  caught  the  words  of  the 
song,  or  tried  to  whistle  as  she  caught  their  tune. 
Sometimes  she  came  part  way  to  meet  them,  and 
always  had  a  kind  word  and  often  a  bit  of  fruit  or 
cake  for  each.  The  two  seemed  like  real  parents  to 
Sam,  and  did  all  those  things  he  thought  ideal  par- 
ents should  do  for  their  children.  His  clothes  were 
always  carefully  looked  after,  his  room  was  always 
put  in  apple-pie  order,  and  Mrs.  Stoner  regularly 
deposited  his  surplus  money  in  the  bank  to  his  credit. 
On  Sundays  he  went  to  church  and  Sabbath-school 
with  her,  and  in  the  afternoons  of  spring  and  sum- 
mer time  the  three  would  take  little  excursions  in 
the  beautiful  valley.  Mrs.  Stoner  had  great  pity  for 
the  orphan  boy,  and  carefully  refrained  from  asking 
him  about  his  home  and  his  parents,  fearing  such 
questions  might  make  him  sad  and  discontented. 


SAMMY   LEAVES    HOME  217 

She  made  black  satin  frames  for  the  photos  of  Mrs. 
Boggs  and  Roger,  and  fastened  them  up  by  his 
small  mirror. 

With  such  happy  days  a  year  rolled  around 
quickly,  and  the  only  change  for  Sammy  was  an 
increase  of  a  penny  an  hour  in  his  pay,  and  the  priv- 
ilege of  attending  night-school  during  the  winter 
months.  He  declared  himself  completely  happy 
now,  and  was  doing  everything  in  his  power  to 
please  his  employer,  his  boss  and  the  kind  people 
who  were  indeed  father  and  mother  to  him.  All 
happiness,  however,  seems  destined  to  have  a  break 
or  an  ending  somewhere,  and  this  was  destined  to 
end  all  too  soon. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

UNSATISFACTORY   TIDINGS 

If  you  are  truly  in  love  and  are  writing  a  friend,  the  letter 
will  reveal  the  sincerity  of  your  affections.  You  can't  get  far 
from  the  subject  that's  first  and  foremost  in  your  heart,  your 
thoughts — fingers  and  pen — so  persistently  connect  with  it. — 
Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

Under  the  new  order  of  things  time  dragged  less 
heavily  in  Batesville  and  a  year  passed  rapidly.  The 
changes  were  many  and  marked.  A  railroad  sur- 
veying party  had  run  the  lines  for  a  new  steam  road 
and  the  right-of-way  had  all  been  secured.  Under 
this  impulse  the  town  was  growing  fast ;  there  were 
new  industries,  new  enterprises,  new  mercantile 
establishments,  and  hardly  a  sufficient  number  of 
new  houses  to  accommodate  the  families  these 
brought.  The  depot  site  had  been  acquired,  an 
elevator  was  in  process  of  erection,  the  farmers  in 
the  vicinity  had  organized  a  creamery  company  and 
were  building  next  to  the  elevator,  and  Fairbanks 
had  installed  a  new  power  press  and  added  four  col- 
umns to  the  size  of  the  Banner.  The  club  had 
doubled  its  membership  within  the  year,  and  had 
stimulated  the  Odd  Fellows  to  reorganize  and  the 
Free  Masons  to  talk  of  a  lodge.  The  common  coun- 
cil met  regularly  each  week  and  talked  of  street  im- 


UNSATISFACTORY   TIDINGS  219 

provements,  street  lamps,  water  supply,  and  had 
redeemed  the  hook  and  ladder  truck  from  Fisher 
and  passed  an  ordinance  relieving  citizens  from  the 
poll  tax  who  would  join  the  fire  company.  The  fire 
company  was  flourishing.  Signs  of  a  new  and  pro- 
gressive era,  of  a  sure  awakening,  were  everywhere 
visible  in  the  village.  The  old  residents  were 
aroused,  and  houses  that  had  not  known  paint  since 
the  days  they  were  built  in  the  forties  were  resplend- 
ent in  new  colors.  The  Baptist  parsonage  was  one 
of  these,  and  its  third  and  outer  coat  was  an  ivory 
white.  Citizens  generally  caught  the  spirit  of  enter- 
prise, and  in  no  one  was  the  change  more  apparent 
than  in  Doctor  Boggs.  He  was  no  more  like  him- 
self than  the  parsonage  was  like  its  old  self.  He 
preached  progress  and  talked  it  constantly,  but  cau- 
tioned citizens  to  go  ahead  steadily  rather  than  to 
encourage  any  unnatural  boom.  The  Doctor  seemed 
wonderfully  changed  in  person.  He  was  younger 
and  far  more  sociable;  would  romp  and  play  with 
the  children  upon  the  streets;  visited  the  club  fre- 
quently, and  was  counted  the  most  popular  pastor, 
if  not  the  most  popular  man,  in  town.  On  all  pleas- 
ant days  he  could  be  seen  drawing  Roger  Williams 
around  in  a  red  cart,  playing  horse  or  steam  engine. 
The  child  was  perfectly  delighted  in  his  father's 
company,  and  the  fact  was  commented  upon  by 
every  one,  and  the  other  children  naturally  envied 
Roger  and  vied  with  each  other  in  securing  recog- 
nition and  little  attentions  from  the  Doctor. 

Arabella  had  given  over  the  kindergarten  to  an 
understudy  and  had  engaged  as  principal  of  the  pub- 


220  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

lie  schools.  Fairbanks  had  a  new  horse  and  carriage 
and  was  more  attentive  to  her  than  ever.  He 
relieved  Deacon  Somers  of  the  responsibility  of  com- 
ing for  his  daughter  every  Friday  night  and  return- 
ing her  to  the  Howard's  every  Sunday  evening,  and 
he  seemed  perfectly  delighted  in  doing  it.  Jud 
Boggs  was  getting  on  nicely  in  the  store,  and  had 
been  elected  a  deacon  in  his  father's  church.  He 
was  popular  in  the  club  and  his  influence  for  good 
in  the  community  was  marked  by  all.  Benny  Hop- 
kins was  having  shows  and  theatricals  the  same  as 
usual,  proving  his  experience  with  "Uncle  Tom" 
had  not  visibly  dampened  his  ardor. 

In  all  these  changes,  when  everything  seemed  so 
lovely  and  every  one  so  happy,  it  was  but  natural  for 
Arabella,  Mrs.  Boggs,  Benny  and  the  Doctor  to  miss 
Sammy  the  more  and  to  long  for  his  return.  They 
always  spoke  of  him  to  each  other  and  wondered  if 
he  would  not  soon  come  back.  Mrs.  Boggs  cried  a 
great  deal  over  the  boy,  and  prayed  time  and  time 
again  that  kind  hearts  might  care  for  him  and  that 
a  Heavenly  Father  might  direct  his  steps  toward 
home.  When  she  and  Arabella  were  by  themselves 
they  always  had  their  little  crying  spells,  and  the 
young  woman  would  clear  up  first  and  try  hard  to 
comfort  her  companion.  Arabella  was  the  only  one 
who  had  a  promise  from  Sammy.  He  had  repeatedly 
told  her  if  he  ever  did  leave  home  he  would  write  to 
her  at  least  once  every  year ;  said  if  she  didn't  receive 
a  letter  from  him  that  often  she  might  know  he  was 
dead.  The  last  part  of  the  assurance  the  teacher 
would  reveal  to  no  one,  but  every  one  in  town  knew 


UNSATISFACTORY    TIDINGS  221 

of  the  promise  itself  before  the  year  had  passed. 
Arabella  could  go  no  place  but  some  one  would  ask 
her,  "Have  you  heard  from  Sammy  yet?"  No  one 
can  imagine  how  anxious  she  was  to  give  the  inquir- 
ing ones  some  tidings  of  the  boy;  how  heavy  her 
heart  was  when  the  year  had  gone  and  no  letter  had 
come  from  him.  She  was  unwilling  to  believe  him 
dead  and  was  charitable  enough  to  think  he  had 
merely  forgotten  his  promise.  Frequently  she  drove 
with  Fairbanks  after  school,  and  always  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Chili  Station,  and  the  two  scanned  closely 
every  boy  they  met,  to  see  if  he  was  Sammy  Boggs. 
A  year  and  a  month  passed  by,  when  Arabella 
found  a  large,  fat  letter  in  her  box  at  the  post-office. 
She  knew  it  was  from  Sammy  before  Lena  Gibbons 
handed  it  to  her.  The  address  read:  "Mis  Bela 
Somers,  care  John  Howard,  Batesville,  N.  Y."  The 
writing  was  plain  and  even  and  Arabella  knew  from 
it  Sammy  was  attending  school  and  was  making 
progress.  The  envelope  was  postmarked  "N.  Y.  & 
Buffalo  R.  P.  O.,  May  10,"  and  the  recipient  knew 
it  had  been  mailed  at  some  station  or  upon  a  train. 
She  hastily  tore  it  open  with  a  hair-pin  and  looked 
for  the  date  line.  There  was  none,  and  Arabella 
ran  her  eyes  quickly  over  the  lines,  to  see  if  they  told 
where  the  writer  was.  She  obtained  no  satisfaction 
in  this  respect.  Then  she  sat  down  on  the  post- 
office  steps  and  read  the  long  letter  through  twice, 
wiping  away  tears  frequently  as  she  read.  It  was  a 
characteristic  boy's  letter,  and  about  as  satisfactory 
as  they  all  are.  There  was  not  one  thing  in  it  to 
show  where  he  was,  where  he  had  been,  what  he  was 


222  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

doing  or  going  to  do,  or  what  his  intentions  were — 
it  gave  no  possible  clue  that  could  be  followed  by 
those  at  home.  Arabella  attributed  this  to  careless 
ness  rather  than  to  intent,  but  the  others  did  not 
agree  with  her  in  this.  The  boy  spoke  of  a  canal 
and  of  a  mine,  but  what  canal  and  what  mine  could 
only  be  guessed.  They  were  located,  without  much 
doubt,  somewhere  between  Buffalo  and  New  York 
city,  as  the  postmark  indicated ;  but  that  was  a  wide 
territory  and  a  number  of  railways  connected  the 
points.  There  was  nothing  in  the  letter  to  give  hope 
the  writer  was  to  return  home  before  he  was  of  age, 
and  about  the  only  satisfaction  the  reader  gleaned 
from  it  was  the  fact  that  Samuel  Boggs,  Jr.,  was 
alive  and  well  and  was  making  some  progress  in  his 
studies.  In  full  it  was  as  follows : 

"DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  am  well  and  hope  these  few  lines  will  find 
you  the  same.  I  have  been  well  and  have  only  had  little  ill 
luck  since  I  left  home,  but  the  worst  has  just  come  to  me. 
We  are  going  out  West  now,  Joe  and  me,  and  how  far  I 
cannot  tell.  I  was  on  the  canal  some  and  because  I  hired  to 
boats  with  yellow  streaks  and  yellow  names  on  them  I  drowned 
a  mule,  the  best  one  what  they  had,  and  got  fired.  I  hired  to 
Captain  Stoner  and  the  strikers  shot  him  on  Sunday.  It  nearly 
killed  Mrs.  Stoner  and  its  made  me  lumpy  ever  since-  They 
are  the  best  folks  I  ever  knew.  They  were  father  and  mother 
to  me.  I  have  lived  with  them  a  year  and  worked  in  the  big 
breaker-house  and  went  to  nite  school. 

"Mrs.  Stoner  is  going  to  New  York  to  live  with  a  sister. 
Joe  Stoner  fears  the  mob  and  has  come  here  to  hide  from  them 
and  to  see  the  Captain's  wife  go  way.  Mrs.  Stoner  hugs  me 
and  cries  over  me  and  says  if  she  only  had  money  she  would 
always  keep  me  with  her.  She  is  the  right  sort  and  I  cry  every 
time  I  think  of  going  West  and  leaving  her.  She  has  kept  all 
my  things  well  and  did  nice  things  for  me  in  the  house  all  the 
time-  The  Wyomin  mob  come  to  the  house  painted  up  and 


UNSATISFACTORY   TIDINGS  223 

with  white  cloth  over  their  heads  and  shot  Captain  right  in 
the  door  before  our  eyes.  They  said  they  would  burn  the 
house  down  over  our  heads  if  we  were  hidin'  the  Captain's 
brother,  that's  Joe  Stoner,  inside.  We  told  them  Joe  was  not 
there,  but  they  come  in  and  looked  just  the  same. .  Joe  had 
gone  to  town  with  the  guard  the  bosses  had  and  they  all  had 
pistols.  We  brought  the  Captain's  body  here  and  buried  it. 
The  poor  woman  I  thought  she  would  die  when  we  did  it.  I 
never  seen  anyone  take  on  so.  Them  red  devils  would  have 
killed  Joe  and  the  others  if  they  had  stayed.  They  burned  the 
breaker-house  and  the  engine-house  and  stoned  men  nearly  to 
death.  They  did  the  same  down  the  valley  where  others  would 
not  join  them. 

"The  Captain  wouldn't  walk  out  and  stop  the  engine  when 
they  told  him  to.  They  said  he  was  a  scab  and  they  would 
fix  him  for  it.  Joe  would  not  join  them,  either,  said  he  was 
his  own  master,  and  would  work  just  as  he  pleased.  They 
were  madder  at  Joe  and  the  Captain  than  at  any  others  because 
if  they  had  stopped  the  engine  could  not  go  and  we  all  would 
have  to  stop.  The  men  in  our  mine  all  wanted  to  stay  in.  The 
red  devils  got  some  of  them  drunk  at  nite  and  they  was  bad 
as  any.  The  dogs  was  too  many  for  the  sheep.  Joe  had  been 
round  a  mine  all  his  life.  He  is  a  single  man  and  is  going  to 
take  me  West  with  him  to  the  mines  and  we  are  going  to  be 
rich.  I  will  buy  you  all  nice  things  then  and  I  will  be  like 
Abe  and  have  three  trunks,  and  lots  of  clothes  and  things.  I 
have  seventy-three  dollars  all  ready  all  my  own.  Mrs.  Stoner 
saved  it  in  the  bank  for  me.  She  has  put  all  my  things  in  a 
sachall,  has  give  me  a  new  Bible  and  she  cried  all  the  time  she 
was  doing  it.  I  hope  she  will  have  good  luck  in  New  York. 
She  has  give  the  canary  away.  When  Joe  and  I  get  rich  she 
is  going  to  live  with  us.  We  are  going  to  send  for  her  in  a 
palice  car.  I  asked  her  to  take  my  money,  all  of  it,  but  she 
would  not  take  a  red,  not  one,  not  for  the  funeral  even.  Joe 
is  a  good  man,  but  not  like  the  Captain.  He  swears  and 
smokes  and  the  Captain  don't.  The  Captain  was  always  sing- 
ing or  whistling  and  so  was  Mrs.  Stoner.  She  only  cries  now. 
I  wish  you  knew  her-  I  tell  her  you  could  help  her  so  she 
wouldn't  cry  so  much.  She  and  him  was  the  best  folks  I  ever 
knew.  I  just  read  this  last  to  her  and  she's  crying  again 
harder  than  ever  and  I  guess  I  will  have  to  stop.  I  feel  mean 
to  leave  her,  but  she  says  it  won't  be  long  when  she  will  come 
to  see  us. 


224  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

"How  is  Ben?  Does  he  have  shows  any  more?  I  can  see 
him  playing  Halie  in  my  sleep  and  sometimes  I  wake  up  lafing. 
Have  you  been  to  the  roost  lately?  We  go  West  tomorrow, 
just  after  Mrs.  Stoner  goes  away.  I  hate  to  say  good-by  to 
her  for  sure.  Her  things  went  today.  My  sachall  is  awful 
heavy,  but  Joe  says  we  can  tag  'em  through  and  it  will  be  all 
right.  They  are  all  mended  and  clean  and  Mrs.  Stoner  has  put 
in  some  cakes,  and  some  perfume  and  she  sprinkled  everything 
nearly  with  tears  and  took  a  long  time  putting  them  in.  I  will 
miss  her,  but  she  is  going  to  write  to  Joe  and  me.  Joe  is  awful 
uneasy  to  go.  I  guess  he  is  afraid  of  the  mob-  Kiss  ma  and 
baby  for  me.  Tell  them  I  love  them  and  their  pictures  is  the 
last  thing  Mrs.  Stoner  put  in  the  sachall.  I  hope  pa  will  not 
whip  Roger  as  he  done  me.  It  does  no  good.  Don't  worrie 
about  me.  I  am  all  right  and  will  come  home  when  I  am 
rich.  Write  soon. 

"Your  friend, 

"SAMUEL  BOGGS." 

The  tears  streamed  down  Arabella's  cheeks  as  she 
read.  She  looked  the  letter  over,  up  and  down,  held 
the  individual  sheets  between  herself  and  the  sun  and 
looked  for  a  water-mark,  for  something — anything 
that  might  give  a  trace  that  could  be  followed  and 
that  possibly  would  lead  to  his  location.  She  wished 
to  wire  him  at  once  to  come  home;  to  write  him  in 
such  a  way  as  to  insure  his  return.  She  could  sim- 
ply guess  his  location.  He  was  undoubtedly  some- 
where in  eastern  Pennsylvania,  because  he  had  been 
working  in  a  "breaker-house,"  and  that  was  a  part 
of  an  anthracite  coal  mine.  But  no  matter  where 
he  had  been  or  where  he  was  when  he  wrote,  he  was 
going  to  start  at  once  for  that  boundless,  mysterious 
region  known  as  "out  West,"  and  was  going  to  seek 
work  at  some  mine,  possibly  down  in  a  mine.  Oh, 
how  her  heart  ached  as  she  contemplated  the  boy's 


UNSATISFACTORY    TIDINGS  225 

hardships  in  a  rough  mining  camp  and  the  possibili- 
ties of  his  being  killed  some  hundreds  of  feet  under- 
ground !  She  feared  the  result  the  news  would  have 
upon  Mrs.  Boggs,  who  was  already  mourning  for 
her  son  as  though  he  were  dead.  She  decided  it  was 
best  to  tell  others  of  the  letter — they  might  discover 
more  in  it  than  she  could ;  that  it  was  better  to  give 
Mrs.  Boggs  a  full  reading  than  to  attempt  to  keep 
back  any  portion  of  it.  She  started  straight  for  the 
parsonage.  Mrs.  Boggs  saw  her  as  she  entered  the 
gate,  and  when  Arabella  held  up  the  envelope  she 
ran  toward  her  and  cried : 

"Tell  me,  is  it  from  Samuel?  Is  he  alive  and 
well?  Is  he  coming  home?" 

When  Arabella  said  it  was  indeed  from  Sammy, 
but  that  it  gave  little  satisfaction  other  than  that  he 
was  alive,  the  mother  nearly  fainted.  The  two  sat 
down  upon  the  porch,  and  Arabella  read  the  letter 
aloud,  repeating  in  many  places  where  Mrs.  Boggs 
asked,  "What's  that?"  "What  did  he  say  there?" 
and  so  forth,  and  while  her  head  rested  upon  the 
reader's  shoulder  and  she  was  supported  by  her  right 
arm.  When  the  end  was  reached  the  two  embraced 
and  nearly  cried  their  eyes  out. 

Fairbanks  published  the  letter  in  the  Banner,  so 
many  were  eager  to  read  it,  and  one  of  his  sub- 
scribers who  read  it  brought  in  a  copy  of  the  Phila- 
delphia Ledger  giving  an  account  of  the  strike  riots 
in  the  Wyoming  district  of  Pennsylvania  and  of  the 
killing  of  Captain  Stoner  and  two  other  employes  of 
the  Sunset  Mine  by  the  mob.  Then  Arabella,  Fair- 
banks and  Jud  tried  every  way  they  could  think  of 


226  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

to  locate  Mrs.  Stoner,  in  hopes  she  might  reveal  to 
them  the  destination  of  Joe  and  Sammy.  All  the 
intelligent  replies  they  received  only  said  Mrs. 
Stoner  had  gone  to  New  York,  to  live  with  a  sister, 
and  might  as  well  have  said  she  had  gone  to  darkest 
Africa.  They  advertised  in  the  New  York  papers 
"for  information  that  would  reveal  the  address  of 
Mrs.  Stoner,  wife  of  Captain  Stoner,  who  was  killed 
in  the  strike  riot  at  the  Sunset  Mine  in  Pennsyl- 
vania," but  it  was  all  to  no  purpose — no  one  read  the 
advertisements  who  could  or  would  give  the  desired 
information. 

Doctor  Boggs  wrote  to  the  Baptist  ministers  of  the 
Wyoming  district,  and  from  one  received  some 
information  that  greatly  pleased  him.  The  man 
wrote  that  he  knew  Captain  Stoner  and  his  wife 
well;  that  they  attended  his  church  regularly  and 
were  splendid  Christian  people;  that  an  orphan  boy 
about  ten  years  of  age,  named  Sammy  Smith,  lived 
with  them;  that  the  boy  always  came  to  Sabbath- 
school,  and  knew  more  of  the  Bible  and  Bible  stories, 
and  answered  more  questions  asked  by  his  teacher 
and  the  superintendent  than  all  other  boys  of  the 
school  combined ;  that  he  was  a  bright  and  cheerful 
boy,  and  seemed  greatly  attached  to  the  Captain  and 
Mrs.  Stoner.  This  letter  ended  in  the  same  unsatis- 
factory way  as  all  the  others,  namely,  that  the  boy 
had  gone  West  with  the  captain's  brother,  probably 
in  search  of  gold  or  silver. 

Arabella  endeavored  to  console  herself  and  the 
others  with  the  thought  that  her  next  letter  would 


UNSATISFACTORY    TIDINGS  227 

surely  give  more  satisfactory  information;  she 
argued  Sammy  would  be  anxious  to  hear  from  home 
and  might  write  again  soon  and  give  his  address. 
Then  she  could  portray  to  him  on  paper  the  true 
conditions  existing  at  home  and  he  would  surely 
return.  In  this  reasoning  she  was  doomed  to  bitter 
disappointment.  Months  passed,  and  a  year,  and 
another  and  another.  Annual  letters  came  regularly 
in  the  month  of  April,  but  there  was  never  anything 
in  them  by  which  the  boy  could  be  located  or  traced. 
One  said : 

"I  send  this  by  a  miner  who  is  returning  to  the 
States,  and  I  have  asked  him  to  mail  it  east  of  the 
Mississippi."  Another  had  a  postmark  that  was  so 
faint  a  glass  could  not  make  it  legible,  but  it  con- 
tained the  information,  "We  are  starved  out  and  are 
pulling  up  stakes  for  some  more  promising  diggin's 
beyond  the  Rockies."  The  third  repeated  the  his- 
tory of  two  men  just  about  to  move  again,  but  gave 
no  names  of  places,  or  mines,  or  men  that  would 
serve  to  reveal  their  location.  Each  of  the  letters 
contained  the  "Don't  worry  about  me"  sentence  and 
spoke  of  considerable  ill  luck,  but  were  all  written  in 
the  same  hopeful  strain  that  is  characteristic  of  the 
adventurer,  of  the  miner  in  whose  breast  there  ever 
burns  the  candle  of  hope — the  constant,  yearning, 
impelling  hope  that  gold  and  riches  are  just  beyond, 
just  outside  the  reach  of  his  grasping,  eager  fingers. 
From  them  Arabella  knew  to  a  certainty  Sammy 
Boggs  intended  to  carry  out  his  purpose  of  remain- 
ing away  until  he  was  of  age,  if  he  should  be 


228  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

fortunate  enough  to  live  until  that  time.  It  was  a 
cold,  sad  and  cheerless  deduction,  and  the  more  so 
since  Doctor  Boggs  had  located  all  his  other  children 
and  there  had  taken  place  a  general  and  complete 
reconciliation. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

FOLLOWING   A   YELLOW   VEIN 

It  isn't  best  to  f oiler  one  thing  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  just 
'cause  your  mind's  set  on  it.  You  might  be  so  mad  when  you 
come  to  the  jumpin'  off  place  you'd  jump.  It's  a  chance  you'd 
get  satisfaction  chasin'  so'thin'  else  part  of  the  time. — Sam 
Boggs,  Jr. 

After  the  final  farewells  were  spoken  to  Mrs. 
Stoner,  Joe  and  Sammy  started  for  the  western 
mines,  first  going  to  Pittsburg  and  then  to  St.  Louis. 
In  the  latter  city  they  heard  of  the  rich  galena  mines 
that  were  being  discovered  in  southwestern  Mis- 
souri, and  they  joined  a  party  of  prospectors  and 
miners  who  were  going  overland  to  Joplin.  They 
were  twelve  days  and  nights  upon  this  journey,  and 
they  saw  many  of  the  sad  reminders  of  the  great 
Civil  War  as  they  passed  through  desolated  villages 
and  despoiled  farms.  The  two  secured  ready  and 
profitable  employment  at  the  mines,  Joe  in  setting 
up  and  operating  new  machinery  and  Sammy  as  an 
assistant  in  the  assay  house  of  a  great  smelter,  where 
he  learned  much  regarding  the  characteristics  of 
galena  ores,  their  properties  and  values,  and  the 
methods  for  separating  minerals.  The  companions 
lived  in  a  rude  shanty  and  in  a  community  that 
afforded  few  of  the  advantages  of  civilization. 


230  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Sammy  had  no  congenial  friends  of  like  age,  and 
was  constantly  thrown  in  with  rough  men,  many  of 
them  foreigners  who  could  speak  little  or  no  English 
and  who  had  slight  acquaintance  with  soap,  water, 
or  other  things  conducive  to  cleanliness.  He  longed 
for  his  pleasant  home  surroundings  at  the  Sunset, 
and  thought  he  would  even  be  willing  to  take 
chances  with  his  father  could  he  but  make  a  change 
now.  Joe  was  equally  discontented,  and  declared  he 
would  not  live  there  a  year  for  all  the  galena  ore  the 
Ozarks  contained,  and  although  they  had  preferred 
places  above  ground,  their  wages  were  high  and 
there  were  few  opportunities  to  spend  money,  they 
talked  constantly  of  something  better.  They  argued 
that  money  was  not  all  that  made  life  desirable,  and 
if  they  were  to  live  apart  from  civilization  they 
might  as  well  go  farther  west  and  take  a  gold 
miner's  chances  to  acquire  wealth  in  a  short  period 
of  time.  Then,  if  successful,  they  could  return  to 
civilization  and  have  more  of  life  in  which  to  enjoy 
its  blessings. 

By  keeping  up  an  agitation  of  this  sort  Joe  in- 
duced five  of  his  friends  at  the  mine  to  join  him  in 
an  expedition  to  Colorado.  The  men  had  much 
hesitancy  in  taking  Sammy  with  them,  but  he  was 
strong  and  hardy  and  Joe  would  not  consent  to  his 
being  left  behind.  They  went  to  Kansas  City,  and 
there  purchased  an  outfit  and  joined  a  waeon  train 
composed  of  adventuresome  men  and  women  seek- 
ing homes  and  fortunes  in  the  far  West.  The  pro- 
gress of  the  party  across  the  plains  was  slow,  but 
was  far  more  satisfactory  and  fortunate  than  that  of 


FOLLOWING   A   YELLOW   VEIN  231 

some  of  their  predecessors.  In  fact,  the  trail  they 
followed  was  strewn  with  evidences  of  misfortune 
that  had  overtaken  those  who  had  gone  before. 
There  were  carcasses  of  animals,  broken-down 
wagons,  graves  containing  rude  markers,  and  before 
they  reached  the  Rockies  they  beheld  the  notable 
ground  where  savages  had  blocked  the  progress  of 
an  entire  wagon-train,  and  had  captured  or  killed  all 
members  of  the  party.  These  things,  however,  did 
not  daunt  them.  They  have  never  checked,  more 
than  for  the  mere  moment,  the  ceaseless  flow  of 
western  immigration. 

Upon  reaching  Idaho  Springs  in  Colorado  the 
Joplin  party  separated  from  the  train,  set  up  a  camp, 
and  decided  to  prospect  in  Gilpin  County,  from 
whence  came  reports  of  rich  returns  from  surface 
workings.  They  found  Gilpin  County  swarming 
with  prospectors,  and  nearly  every  foot  of  hillside 
and  valley  staked  out  by  some  one  with  pick  and 
shovel,  pan  or  rocker. 

Joe  was  the  only  one  of  the  party  who  was  almost 
absolutely  sure  of  a  living  in  the  country.  His 
knowledge  of  machinery  gave  him  this  advantage, 
and  after  weeks  of  fruitless  search  for  paying  dirt, 
he  obtained  employment  at  the  Osborn  site,  at  the 
junction  of  Fall  River  and  Clear  Creek,  where  a 
small  water-power  mill  was  being  erected.  Here 
the  winter  was  spent  amidst  the  dreariest  of  sur- 
roundings, the  two  working  upon  the  mill's  con- 
struction during  the  short  days  and  spending  the 
long  nights  in  the  rude  shanty  they  called  "home." 
There  was  not  a  woman  in  the  camp  all  that  dreary 


232  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

winter.  Chinamen  did  the  housework  and  the  cook- 
ing, talked  "pigeon  English,"  and  gambled  away 
their  wages  the  same  day  they  received  them.  In 
January  Joe  was  taken  sick  with  a  low  fever  and  was 
obliged  to  leave  his  work,  and  Sammy  was  his  faith- 
ful nurse.  The  boy  kept  the  cabin  at  an  even  tem- 
perature, made  the  surroundings  as  cheerful  as  possi- 
ble, administered  the  medicines,  and  did  everything 
that  an  untrained  attendant  could  do.  He  was 
always  cheerful,  inspiring,  and  hopeful,  and  when 
the  fever  departed  and  the  patient  gave  signs  of  a 
sure  recovery  the  boy  was  taken  sick  and  was  not 
able  to  return  to  the  mill  for  fully  two  weeks  after 
Joe's  return.  The  machinist  declares  until  this  day 
he  never  would  have  been  able  to  return  but  for  the 
tender  and  able  nursing  of  his  younger  companion. 
In  the  following  spring,  when  the  melting  snows 
were  swelling  the  streams  and  were  leaving  great 
patches  of  bare,  brown  earth  upon  the  mountain 
sides,  Hi  Foster,  of  the  Joplin  party,  came  to  the 
Junction  and  gave  Joe  and  Sammy  wonderful 
descriptions  of  the  Gold  Bird  mines,  where  he  and 
his  companions  were  employed.  A  one- fourth  in- 
terest in  the  property  was  for  sale,  the  owner  having 
disgraced  himself  in  camp  by  cheating  at  cards,  and 
Foster  desired  Joe  and  Sammy  to  join  them  in  ac- 
quiring the  interest.  The  outlook  was  so  promising 
that  the  two  accepted  the  invitation,  gave  up  their 
work  at  the  Junction,  and  connected  themselves  and 
their  small  earnings  with  the  Gold  Bird  outfit.  The 
Joplin  party  was  thus  reunited.  The  members  of  it 
gave  every  dollar  they  possessed,  and  promised  to 


FOLLOWING    A.    YELLOW    VEIN  233 

give  some  thousands  besides,   for  the  one-quarter 
interest. 

For  the  next  three  years  the  Gold  Bird  owners 
lived  in  clover.  The  mine  yielded  handsomely,  and 
Joe  and  Sam  were  accumulating  snug  fortunes, 
placing  their  money  in  the  banks  of  Denver.  They 
had  work  above  ground  in  the  engine  and  shaft 
house,  had  easy  hours,  and  often  talked  of  the  happy 
surprises  they  were  soon  to  make  Mrs.  Stoner  and 
those  at  home.  Men  can  seldom  be  content  with 
prosperity.  So  it  proved  with  the  owners  of  the 
Gold  Bird.  A  majority  were  clamoring  for  new 
and  better  machinery  in  the  mill  and  for  the  erection 
of  a  costly  smelting  plant.  These  held  out  all  the 
familiar  arguments  to  their  associates — too  great 
expense  in  carrying  ores  to  the  smelter  of  another 
company,  too  great  cost  in  the  reduction  of  ore, 
excessive  tolls,  and  unnecessary  waste.  They  desired 
to  get  rich  faster.  The  majority  had  its  way,  and 
the  Joplin  syndicate,  owning  its  little  quarter,  was 
forced  to  yield.  The  same  old  history  was  then 
repeated.  Accumulated  earnings  went  for  the  new 
smelter  and  new  machinery ;  the  method  for  treating 
the  ores  was  changed  and  here  the  first  great  mistake 
was  made;  the  cost  of  operating  the  new  plant  soon 
became  greater  than  the  daily  returns  from  the  prop- 
erty. The  management  was  changed,  but  not  for 
the  better.  The  directors  quarrelled  and  the  owners 
became  divided  into  warring  factions.  At  the  end 
of  eighteen  months  of  the  new  ownership,  the  com- 
pany found  itself  hopelessly  in  debt ;  what  promised 
to  be  endless  litigation  was  begun,  the  mine  closed 


234  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

down,  and  Joe  and  Sam,  as  well  as  their  Joplin 
friends,  were  without  a  dollar  or  a  square  foot  of 
paying  property.  The  Gold  Bird  had  the  record  of 
producing  three-quarters  of  a  million  dollars  up  to 
this  time,  but  the  bad  management  and  the  twelve 
quarrelling  owners  had  dissipated  the  money  and 
had  obligated  themselves  some  thousands  in  addi- 
tion. Of  course  the  mines,  mill,  and  smelter  passed 
into  new  hands  to  satisfy  these  claims,  and  the  sav- 
ings of  Joe  Stoner  and  Samuel  Boggs  went  into  the 
black  gulf  with  the  rest.  In  four  and  one-half  years 
they  had  gone  from  poverty  to  riches  and  from 
riches  to  poverty  and  had  nothing  but  experience  as 
an  item  of  gain.  They  had  grown  considerably 
older,  and  both  hoped  considerably  wiser.  Their 
beautiful  air  castles  were  all  in  ruins,  but  they  con- 
soled each  other  as  best  they  could  and  did  not  lose 
heart  entirely.  They  decided  they  would  regain 
their  fortunes  in  the  same  field  where  they  had  lost 
them,  and  started  again  upon  the  uncertain  search 
for  the  yellow  metal.  Sam  Boggs  wished  many 
times  gold  had  a  different  color,  but  was  always 
hopeful — the  very  life  of  the  little  party. 

Why  follow  the  two  in  this  serious  but  legitimate 
business?  Thousands  of  others — strong,  hardy 
men,  men  of  heroic  mould  and  iron  nerves — have 
had  similar  experiences;  have  gone  from  camp  to 
camp,  endured  hardships  and  undergone  sickness, 
wounds,  and  privations,  and  met  death  itself — 
hoping  on,  hoping  ever  the  golden  goal  is  just 
beyond. 


FOLLOWING   A   YELLOW   VEIN  235 

The  two  tramped  from  camp  to  camp,  from  one 
mining  district  to  another;  prospected,  worked  on 
shares,  followed  rumors  of  rich  washings,  and  with 
all  their  wanderings  only  found  scanty  fare  and 
miserable  lodgings,  often  no  lodgings  worthy  of  the 
name,  where  they  were  exposed  to  cold  rains  and 
chilling  winds.  For  three  long,  weary  years  they 
followed  the  ever-fleeing  Goddess  in  this  manner, 
only  securing  sufficient  employment  or  enough  of  the 
yellow  metal  to  give  them  the  absolute  necessities  of 
life.  When  everything  else  failed  them  their  knowl- 
edge of  machinery  generally  brought  them  employ- 
ment, and  when  they  knew  not  what  else  to  do,  they 
sought  camps  where  new  mills  or  smelters  were 
being  erected  and  where  skilled  employment  was  in 
demand.  The  last  year  of  their  roving  companion- 
ship was  spent  in  California,  where  they  worked  for 
a  great  corporation  at  Dutch  Flats,  building  flumes 
and  constructing  plants  for  hydraulic  mining.  The 
work  was  hard,  riches  came  slowly,  and  one  day  Joe 
gave  up  the  battle.  He  told  Sam  he  was  going  to 
'Frisco  and  was  going  to  seek  employment  as  an 
engineer.  Sam  begged  him  to  try  his  fortunes 
farther  in  the  gold  fields,  and  alone;  said  he  might 
have  known  at  the  outset  he  could  never  have  good 
luck  in  hunting  for  a  yellow  metal ;  perhaps,  after  all, 
he  had  been  a  "Jonah"  that  should  have  long  ago 
been  cast  from  the  ship  by  the  land  sailors  from 
Joplin.  He  had  thought  this  thousands  of  times 
before,  but  had  not  had  courage  to  express  it.  He 
knew  he  could  take  care  of  himself  could  he  but 
reach  'Frisco,  and  he  begged  the  privilege.  Joe 


236  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

finally  yielded,  and  decided  to  remain  where  he  was 
for  a  time  and  to  start  Sam  out  for  himself  upon  the 
unknown  sea.  The  young  man  secured  transporta- 
tion upon  an  ore  train  going  to  the  Oakland  smelt- 
ers, and  the  friends  shook  hands,  gave  promises,  and 
parted,  not  knowing  they  would  ever  meet  again. 

Sam's  feelings  upon  this  trip  can  only  be  im- 
agined, they  can  never  be  described.  He  was  glad 
to  go  by  himself,  even  in  an  unknown  land,  without 
a  friend  to  protect  or  a  mortal  hand  to  guide,  for  he 
realized  he  was  going  toward  civilization,  where 
there  were  women  and  children,  and  churches,  and 
schools,  and  the  thought  gave  him  courage  and  new 
hope.  He  resolved,  over  and  over,  never  again  to 
search  for  gold — it  was  a  yellow  streak  at  best, 
growing  thin,  uncertain,  and  the  more  delusive  as 
he  followed  it.  He  recalled  how  good  luck  came  to 
him  at  the  "Sunset,"  where,  as  a  mere  boy,  he  broke 
up  the  lumps  of  jet  black  coal,  and  how  his  fortune 
grew  in  Joplin,  where  he  handled  the  metal  of  leaden 
hue. 

The  first  view  of  San  Francisco  upon  its  many 
hills — the  inner  bay  in  the  foreground,  so  full  of 
shipping  from  all  parts  of  the  globe ;  the  Golden  Gate 
leading  into  the  great  ocean  beyond ;  the  busy,  bust- 
ling, steaming,  belching,  moving  panorama  Sam 
Boggs  will  never  forget.  It  was  to  the  tired  wan- 
derer like  a  picture  of  paradise.  He  was  now  a 
young  man,  full  grown,  practically  without  educa- 
tion, but  possessed  of  a  large,  stout  frame;  was 
inured  to  hardships,  and  had  a  resolute  purpose  to 


FOLLOWING    A    YELLOW    VEIN  237 

achieve  something  of  success  before  returning  to  his 
own. 

He  found  scores  of  places  in  the  great  city  open 
to  bright,  intelligent,  educated  young  men,  but  he 
was  not  qualified  to  fill  them.  He  felt  himself  wholly 
without  knowledge  that  fitted  him  for  earning  a 
living  in  the  city,  and  grew  despondent  as  he  sought 
and  obtained  mere  manual  labor  sufficient  to  keep 
body  and  soul  together.  While  working  along  the 
docks  he  fell  in  with  a  sailor  who  had  an  interest  in 
a  vessel  engaged  in  coast-wise  trade.  The  man  in- 
duced Sam  to  ship  as  an  oiler,  promising  him  rapid 
advancement  and  a  share  in  the  ship's  earnings  upon 
certain  conditions  that  would  be  revealed  to  him 
upon  the  first  cruise  out.  He  was  assured  of  ample 
opportunity  to  read  and  study  and  was  happy  over 
the  prospect.  Two  days  later  the  vessel  steamed 
out  into  the  Pacific  and  headed  northward.  Sam 
was  not  long  in  discovering  his  mistake  as  to  the 
craft  or  its  mission.  From  what  he  could  learn 
below  decks  he  was  sure  the  boat  was  engaged  in 
illegal  traffic  and  that  the  crew  depended  more  upon 
its  ability  to  evade  the  officials  of  two  governments, 
to  debauch  the  natives  of  the  Alaskan  islands  and 
mainland,  upon  knavery  and  trickery,  than  upon  any 
legitimate  means  to  gain  a  livelihood.  The  boat 
was  fitted  out  for  pelagic  sealing,  and  Sam  Boggs 
calculated  the  crew  was  as  tough  a  lot  of  salt  sea 
pirates  as  ever  followed  the  fortunes  of  Captain 
Kidd.  He  had  gone  to  but  one  meal  in  the  crew's 
mess  when  he  decided  to  desert  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. The  opportunity  was  soon  given,  for  the 


238  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

craft  steamed  into  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River 
and  tied  up  to  the  docks  of  the  Ristoria  Company. 
Here  the  crew  proceeded  to  place  aboard  trading 
supplies  they  dared  not  ship  at  'Frisco — miserable 
whiskey,  poor  tobacco,  opium,  and  other  stupefying 
drugs  in  sufficient  quantities  to  ruin  an  army.  When 
she  gave  the  signal  and  cleared,  Sam  was  not  on 
board.  He  stood,  however,  and  watched  her  black 
hull  disappear  in  the  distance.  Then  he  loitered 
about  the  docks  watching  the  curious  boats  and  their 
crews,  anxious  to  do  some  work  that  would  pay  for 
a  square,  honest  meal.  A  trim-built  schooner  of 
light  draft,  whose  deck  looked  as  clean  as  a  newly- 
scoured  pan,  was  being  loaded  with  almost  all  kinds 
of  merchandise.  Sam  accosted  the  captain,  a  hardy 
Scotchman,  and  asked  that  he  might  lend  a  hand  in 
payment  for  a  dinner.  The  captain  said  his  ship 
was  nearly  loaded,  but  he  never  refused  an  honest 
man  a  meal,  and  if  he  would  wait  until  "Bonnie 
Mary"  blew  the  horn  he  would  see  if  there  was  room 
for  a  stranger  at  the  board,  who  would  be  welcome 
to  such  as  they  had.  He  could  give  no  work  to  a 
hungry  man,  but  would  give  the  meal  first,  then  if  it 
was  worth  it  the  satisfied  man  could  "do  a  wee  bit 
of  labor"  in  turn.  Sam  liked  this  talk  from  the 
sturdy  sailor,  and  concluded  he  was  of  different 
mould  from  the  men  he  had  last  associated  with. 
He  endeavored  to  lend  a  hand  at  the  outset,  but  the 
captain  would  not  permit  it,  although  he  and  a  man 
who  looked  like  his  twin  brother  worked  away  with 
the  roustabouts  like  beavers  on  a  dam.  The  captain 
put  his  thumbs  to  his  mouth,  and  the  long  whistle 


FOLLOWING    A    YELLOW    VEIN  239 

brought  a  trim  and  buxom  lassie  in  white  apron  and 
cap  up  the  hatch  to  the  deck.  The  captain  held  up 
four  ringers  and  cried,  "Lay  the  cloth  for  four, 
lassie."  The  lassie  curtsied  and  disappeared.  Sam 
then  surveyed  the  craft  from  stem  to  stern,  and 
although  he  was  not  a  sailor  and  knew  little  or  noth- 
ing of  a  ship,  he  could  not  help  admiring  the  lines  of 
the  vessel,  her  clean  masts  and  spars,  the  neatness 
and  order  that  was  everywhere  visible.  The  sails, 
already  loosened,  were  white  and  without  a  rent; 
every  rope  not  in  use  was  coiled  with  wonderful  pre- 
cision upon  the  deck,  and  there  were  potted  plants  in 
boxes  at  the  stern  and  near  the  narrow  cabin  win-* 
dows,  that  had  dainty  white  curtains  parted  with 
ribbons.  The  schooner  was  so  much  larger  and 
handsomer  than  Mrs.  Stoner's  floating  home  on  the 
Chenango  Canal,  that  Sam  did  not  wish  to  compare 
the  two,  although  there  was  much  about  the 
"Scotia"  to  make  him  think  of  the  canal  and  of  the 
kind  captain  and  wife  who  had  taken  him  in  and  had 
been  father  and  mother  to  him.  When  "Bonnie 
Mary"  blew  the  horn,  Sam  was  sitting  upon  a  box, 
and  the  tears  were  streaming  down  his  face.  The 
captain  motioned  to  him  and  noticed  his  reddened 
eyes  as  he  led  the  way  over  the  deck  and  down  the 
hatchway  to  the  cabin,  and  expressed  the  hope  that 
any  sadness  might  not  keep  back  a  good  appetite. 

That  cabin  was  the  sweetest  place  Sam  Boggs  had 
ever  been  in.  It  was  not  large,  but  everything  was 
so  arranged  that  it  seemed  ample  for  twice  as  many 
occupants.  The  table  was  spread  with  a  clean,  white 
cloth,  and  four  blue  bowls  of  steaming  soup  awaited 


240  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

the  toilers  and  their  guest,  while  pleasant  odors  were 
wafted  to  them  from  the  kitchen.  Sam  gave  his 
true  name  to  the  Captain,  so  hard  was  it  for  him  to 
lie  in  such  honest  company.  "This  is  my  daughter, 
Mary  MacDonald,  and  this  is  my  brother,  Donald 
MacDonald,  and  I  am  Robert  MacDonald,"  said  the 
host.  "We  have  the  honor  of  the  company  of  Sam- 
uel Boggs."  At  this  the  brother  and  the  daughter 
shook  Sam's  hand  heartily,  and  all  stood  up  until  the 
Captain  had  said  grace.  It  was  the  first  time  Sam 
had  heard  a  blessing  asked  at  table  since  the  evening 
Captain  Stoner  offered  his  last  audible  prayer  on 
earth.  The  blessing  and  the  surroundings  made 
Sam  thoughtful  and  sad  beyond  measure,  and  while 
everything  served  by  "Bonnie  Mary"  was  as  good 
as  food  could  be,  the  young  man  could  not  keep  back 
the  tears.  Before  the  dessert  had  been  served  Sam 
asked  the  pardon  of  his  hosts  for  being  so  simple  and 
childish;  said  he  had  been  so  touched  by  the  kind- 
ness that  it  brought  memories  of  home,  and  mother 
and  friends.  This  touched  the  captain's  heart,  and 
he  cried,  and  big  Donald  forced  a  laugh  that  ended 
in  tears.  When  "Bonnie  Mary"  came  in  with  the 
dumplings  and  cream  and  saw  they  were  all  crying, 
for  no  special  cause,  she  stood  aside  with  the  tray 
and  said  she'd  wait  "until  the  squall  was  over." 
This  was  like  a  sudden  burst  of  sunshine  through 
the  storm,  and  the  three  big  lubbers  wiped  their  eyes 
and  finished  the  dinner  in  better  spirits.  When  they 
filed  up  the  stairs  the  children  of  Scotland  were  sing- 
ing the  familiar  words  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

ON  BOARD  THE  "SCOTIA." 

When  you  loan  a  man  somethin'  you  should  loan  him  the 
best  you've  got  of  the  thing  he  asks  for.  Otherwise  he'll  be 
sure  to  think  you're  workin'  off  somethin'  on  him  you  can't 
use  and  that  you  'spect  he  can't.  The  same  rule  holds  good 
when  you're  makin'  a  gift. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

\ 

Sam  told  the  MacDonalds  they  could  make  their 
own  terms  if  they  would  but  take  him  along  with 
them,  and  after  considerable  coaxing  and  the  passing 
around  of  badly-soiled  photographs  of  his  mother 
and  infant  brother,  "Bonnie  Mary"  added  her  vote 
and  voice  to  the  young  man's  cause  and  the  victory 
followed  easily.  After  the  decision,  Sam  sat  down 
and  wrote  a  short  letter  home,  addressing  it  to  Ara- 
bella. It  was  the  most  satisfactory  letter  he  had 
written  during  all  the  years,  for  it  told  how  they 
could  get  into  communication  with  him.  "We  are 
going  to  Alaska  and  will  be  back  late  in  the  fall," 
wrote  the  wanderer.  "A  letter  addressed  to  me  at 
Astoria,  Oregon,  care  of  Schr.  Scotia,  Captain  Mac- 
Donald,  will  catch  me  upon  my  return." 

It  was  a  happy  day  in  Batesville  when  this  infor- 
mation was  received,  and  the  news  of  it  spread  rap- 
idly. Before  midnight  at  least  six  persons  had 
written  or  started  letters  to  the  traveler. 


242  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

Doctor  Boggs  wrote  from  an  overflowing  heart — 
a  cheerful,  hopeful,  fatherly  letter,  telling  of  the 
tears  that  had  been  shed  and  the  prayers  that  had 
been  poured  out  for  his  preservation,  guidance  and 
safe  return.  He  wrote  of  the  changed  conditions  in 
the  family  and  of  a  splendid  reunion  that  had  been 
held  and  that  only  lacked  the  presence  of  the  seventh 
son  to  make  it  a  perfect  gathering  of  kindred  souls 
on  earth.  Arabella  was  given  credit  for  this  and 
other  blessings  the  family,  the  church,  and  the  com- 
munity had  enjoyed.  In  the  letter  were  two  sen- 
tences that  puzzled  Sammy.  They  read:  "I  have 
preached  from  the  texts  you  blue-penciled  in  my 
flexible  Bible.  You  do  not  know  how  often  they 
have  brought  you  to  my  mind,  neither  can  you  real- 
ize the  good  they  have  done  me." 

The  mother  wrote  particularly  of  the  home  and 
family — a  dear,  sweet  letter,  bubbling  over  with  love 
and  tenderness.  She  wrote  much  of  Roger  Williams, 
of  what  a  fine  boy  he  had  grown  to  be,  of  his  pro- 
gress in  school,  and  his  enthusiasm  for  the  club  and 
out-door  sports ;  of  his  desire  to  obtain  an  education, 
how  certain  he  was  God  had  called  him  to  the  min- 
istry, and  how  anxious  she  was  means  might  be  pro- 
vided, in  some  manner,  for  the  purpose. 

Arabella  wrote  of  her  wedding,  of  the  changes  in 
the  school  and  the  village;  told  what  Sam's  old 
schoolmates  were  doing,  and  dwelt  at  considerable 
length  upon  the  beauty,  accomplishments,  and 
graces  of  the  girl  he  rescued  from  the  baptistry.  "I 
am  going  to  mail  you  a  photo  of  her  under  separate 
cover,"  she  wrote,  "that  you  can  see  what  your 


ON    BOARD   THE      SCOTIA  243 

splendid  bit  of  heroism  preserved  to  earth.  I  think 
it  is  a  face  to  inspire  any  young  man  to  deeds  of 
heroism."  She  followed  this  with  others,  telling  of 
the  wonderful  change  in  Doctor  Boggs,  of  what  he 
said  from  the  pulpit  regarding  corporal  punishment, 
of  his  fondness  for  children,  his  visits  to  the  club, 
and  of  how  chummy  he  and  Roger  were.  In  one 
she  wrote:  "There  are  no  switches  in  the  study 
now;  none  have  been  there  since  you  went  away. 
Roger  is  never  whipped.  He  is  ruled  by  love,  and 
although  he  is  full  of  mischief,  he  is  the  brightest 
and  best  boy  in  town,  and  what  is  better  than  all  else, 
he  declares  he  is  going  to  be  a  Baptist  minister." 

Ben  wrote  a  letter  of  twelve  full  pages.  He  told 
of  his  work  in  school  and  about  the  changes  that  had 
taken  place  in  Batesville;  described  the  celebration 
that  was  had  when  the  first  passenger  train  bearing 
the  "moguls  of  the  road"  came  in ;  wrote  of  the  new 
gas  and  water  works,  the  fire  department  and — what 
pleased  him  most — the  new  theatre.  He  named  the 
plays  he  had  seen,  but  said  he  had  given  up  the  show 
business  as  a  profession  and  was  going  to  be  a  news- 
paper man  and  get  into  politics  some,  as  soon  as  he 
was  out  of  Cornell.  He  was  led  toward  the  news- 
paper field  through  Arabella  Somers'  influence,  for 
every  one  in  town  gave  her  and  her  articles  in  the 
Banner  all  credit  for  the  changed  conditions  in  the 
village.  If  she  could  accomplish  so  much  in  a  small 
field,  what  could  he  not  accomplish  in  a  larger  field  ? 

"Your  brother  Roger  is  a  buster,"  wrote  Ben. 
"He  and  my  brother  Charlie  are  worse  than  we  ever 
were,  but  I  haven't  heard  that  Roger  has  been 


244  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

flogged  any  for  it.  They  are  constantly  up  to  some 
deviltry — nothing  so  very  bad — but  they  surely  dis- 
count all  the  other  kids  in  town.  A  few  nights  ago 
they  fastened  a  tick-tack  on  old  lady  Townsend's 
window  and  she  caught  them  at  it.  It  made  me 
think  of  the  time  she  caught  you  jerking  her  door 
bell.  She  reported  on  Roger,  but  Charlie  tells  me 
your  father  only  said  he  guessed  they  'better  not  do 
it  again,  Mrs.  Townsend  is  getting  so  old  and  child- 
ish.' Your  dad  has  taken  a  tumble  to  himself  since 
you  went  away.  I  want  to  tell  you  the  worst  one  on 
those  kids.  They  made  sling-shots  and  went 
around  together  shooting  at  people's  windows,  at 
birds,  at  dogs  and  cats,  at  marks  and  things,  all  over 
town.  Where  do  you  suppose  they  got  their  ammu- 
nition? Well,  that's  the  worst  part  of  it.  It  scan- 
dalized your  father  terribly,  and  people  will  never 
stop  talking  about  it.  You  remember  the  baptismal 
robes  that  hung  in  the  'haunted  closet,'  as  you  called 
it?  Roger  saw  your  mother  mending  one  of  them, 
and  saw  that  the  sausage-link  sinkers  that  went 
around  the  bottom  contained  buck-shot.  He  told 
Charlie  about  it.  The  two  watched  their  chance, 
stole  into  the  study  when  your  father  was  out,  took 
some  sharpened  lead-pencils  from  his  desk,  crept  into 
the  closet,  and  bored  holes  through  every  last  link  in 
one  of  the  biggest  robes,  and  I  guess  they  worked 
out  the  very  last  buck-shot.  Anyhow,  they  had  am- 
munition enough  for  a  day  or  two. 

"Elder  Brewster,  pastor  of  the  Congregational 
Church  over  at  Churchville,  wrote  your  father  that 
a  respectable  colored  woman  desired  to  unite  with 


ON    BOARD   THE      SCOTIA  245 

his  church,  who  insisted  that  immersion  was  the  only 
correct  style  of  baptism,  and  that  she  must  be  im- 
mersed and  in  a  running  stream.  He  said  the 
woman  was  very  heavy,  would  go  something  over 
two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  he  would  be  pleased  to 
have  the  loan  of  a  baptismal  gown,  if  your  father's 
assortment  contained  one  large  enough.  He  also 
invited  your  father  to  come  and  assist  him,  and  said 
he  would  arrange  to  have  the  doings  on  a  Sunday 
afternoon,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  his  regular 
services.  Your  father  went  to  the  'haunted  closet' 
and  to  the  hook  where  the  biggest  robe  hung,  took  it 
down,  packed  it  in  a  basket,  and  sent  it  down  to 
Elder  Brewster.  Every  one  for  ten  miles  'round 
heard  the  big  woman  was  going  to  be  baptized  in  the 
river  and  wanted  to  see  it  done.  There  were  a  thou- 
sand or  more  on  the  banks  when  the  time  came. 
Your  father  accepted  Elder  Brewster's  invitation 
and  took  robes  and  waders  for  both  of  them  along 
with  him.  He  rode  over  with  Fairbanks,  who  had 
been  asked  to  assist  in  the  singing,  as  they  wanted 
to  make  the  services  as  impressive  as  possible.  I 
rode  with  Jud  and  the  rest  of  the  quartette.  When 
all  was  ready  the  fat  woman  went  down  to  the  water 
and  two  of  her  sisters  went  with  her  to  take  the 
blanket  that  was  wrapped  around  her.  Your  father 
and  Elder  Brewster  waded  out  into  the  stream  first, 
to  read  the  Scriptures,  say  something  to  the  people, 
to  note  the  strength  of  the  current,  and  to  get  Elder 
Brewster  a  little  used  to  water,  I  guess.  Then,  too, 
mebbe  they  thought  they'd  be  stronger  when  the 
first  chill  was  off.  Then  they  walked  up  to  where 


246  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

the  candidate  was  standing,  passed  the  Bible  up  to 
one  of  the  deacons,  extended  each  a  hand  to  the 
sister,  and  led  her  out  between  them.  The  water 
was  cold  and  she  drew  heavy  breaths  at  first.  The 
edges  of  her  robe  wouldn't  sink,  for  some  reason, 
and  as  they  went  deeper  the  thing  puffed  up  around 
her  like  a  balloon,  and  the  farther  they  waded  the 
bigger  the  balloon  grew.  Fairbanks  and  the  quar- 
tette had  started  singing  This  is  the  way  I  long 
have  sought,  and  mourned  because  I  found  it  not.' 
and  most  every  one  on  the  banks  had  joined  them. 
Your  father  and  Elder  Brewster  were  looking  into 
the  skies  and  were  piping  like  meadow-larks;  some 
say  like  loons,  but  that's  a  slander.  You  know  how 
water  magnifies  things?  The  Black  River  does  it, 
the  same  as  others.  Some  ladies  who  stood  nearest 
blushed  and  turned  their  faces  away.  The  crowd 
became  restless,  the  singing  stopped  in  spite  of  Fair- 
banks, and  some  one  shouted.  That  started  a  big 
laugh.  Elder  Brewster  saw  first  what  was  up  and 
he  tried  to  tuck  it  down.  Then  your  father  did 
some  tall  tucking,  too.  He  took  both  hands  to  it, 
wet  the  edge  of  the  robe  and  tried  to  make  it  sink. 
He  was  succeeding  well,  when  the  candidate  discov- 
ered he  had  loosened  his  hold  of  her  and  that  her 
only  support  was  that  frail,  weazy,  dried-up  little 
Brewster.  She  screamed  and  grabbed  for  your 
father,  and  as  she  did  it,  she  lost  her  footing,  fell, 
and  dragged  little  Brewster  under  with  her.  I 
never  saw  such  a  scramble.  Brewster  came  up  first 
and  had  to  fight  some  to  get  loose  from  the  bunting 
and  to  gain  his  feet.  Your  father  caught  the  woman 


ON   BOARD   THE   "SCOTIA"  247 

then  and  succeeded  in  getting  her  head  above  water ; 
but  he  couldn't  do  much,  she  floundered  around  so 
and  made  such  a  fuss.  After  Brewster  had  brushed 
his  locks  out  of  his  eyes,  and  turned  the  water  out 
of  both  his  ears,  and  wiped  his  face  with  a  soaked 
handkerchief,  he  went  to  your  father's  assistance. 
Deacon  Haldane  and  two  of  the  brothers  drove  the 
deacon's  horse  out  into  the  river,  a  short  ways  down 
stream,  to  render  aid  and  to  catch  any  one  who 
might  come  their  way.  They  weren't  needed, 
though,  for  the  pastors  succeeded  in  placing  the 
candidate  upon  her  feet  without  them.  She  was 
terribly  excited,  was  blowing  hard,  was  mad  and 
hystericky,  and  refused,  point  blank,  to  be  again 
immersed,  and  in  the  orthodox  way.  They  all 
caught  on  behind  Deacon  Haldane' s  buggy  and  held 
on  until  the  deacon's  mare  reached  the  bank.  You 
can  imagine  how  the  crowd  acted.  Every  one  most 
blames  your  father.  He  never  examined  the  robe 
he  loaned  Elder  Brewster  at  all,  and  Brewster  didn't 
know  better  than  to  give  it  to  the  candidate  just  as 
he  had  received  it.  I  guess  your  father  was  absent- 
minded  when  he  went  to  the  closet  or  he  would  have 
noticed  how  light  the  garment  was.  Of  course  it 
was  the  very  one  Roger  and  Charlie  had  extracted 
the  buck-shot  from.  Roger  will  make  a  pippin  of  a 
preacher,  don't  you  think?" 

Near  the  end  of  the  letter,  Ben  wrote :  "We  are 
all  dying  to  see  you,  and  if  you  will  let  me  know 
when  you  are  coming  home  I  will  order  out  the 
band  for  you.  I  am  leader  of  the  band  now,  and 
we  play  at  picnics  and  celebrations  all  around  the 


248  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

country.  We  played  at  Bill  Taylor's  funeral  last 
week.  The  Odd  Fellows  buried  him,  and  it  made 
the  shouting  Methodists  madder  than  hornets 
because  we  were  hired.  They  wouldn't  let  us  inside 
the  church.  There  was  a  mighty  big  turn-out. 
Everybody  seemed  pleased  to  see  Bill  Taylor 
planted.  I  never  knew  a  man  to  be  so  popular  after 
he  had  died  who  had  been  so  ornery  and  unpopular 
all  his  life.  The  band  came  out  in  new  uniforms 
that  day,  and  some  of  the  boys  think  that's  what 
drew  the  crowd ;  your  father  says  the  people  wanted 
to  make  sure  Taylor  was  laid  at  rest,  and  that  was 
the  cause  of  it.  Taylor  grew  worse  after  you  left. 
He  talked  all  the  time  about  your  being  driven  away 
from  home,  and  one  would  have  supposed  he  was 
your  only  friend.  He  didn't  do  anything  but  mind 
other  people's  business  and  find  fault.  My  dad's  an 
Odd  Fellow  and  I  poked  fun  at  him  because  they 
took  Taylor  into  the  lodge.  He  says  Taylor  was 
'one  of  the  old  originals'  and  was  'elevated'  some- 
where else  in  the  first  place,  and  when  they  reorgan- 
ized they  couldn't  refuse  him.  I  guess  they  were 
afraid  to  turn  him  down  for  fear  he  would  tell 
every  one  about  their  goat,  and  other  secrets.  Ma 
says  the  Odd  Fellows  gave  him  a  decent  burial  just 
to  show  the  people  what  they  could  do.  Mrs.  Tay- 
lor goes  about  town  telling  every  one  her  husband 
died  of  the  'yaller  jaunders.'  You  always  said  you'd 
bet  he  had  a  yellow  streak  through  him  somewheres, 
and  from  her  diagnosis  of  his  final  ailment  I  con- 
clude you  were  right  about  it. 


ON    BOARD    THE      SCOTIA  249 

"Jud  is  head-push  at  the  store  now  and  is  a  part- 
ner. Hooker  relies  entirely  upon  him.  He  is  wear- 
ing whiskers,  and  would  make  a  first  rate  Haley  in 
an  Uncle  Tom  company.  Say,  pard,  you  ought  to 
see  the  sweet  bunch  of  loveliness  you  pulled  out  of 
the  church  tank.  She's  the  finest  specimen  of  fem- 
ininity in  this  town,  but  she  won't  have  a  thing  to 
do  with  any  of  us  fellows.  I  guess  she's  saving  her 
sweetness  for  you,  eh  ?" 

Jud  wrote  a  brotherly  letter,  covering  nearly  the 
same  ground  the  others  had,  but  going  more  into 
details  regarding  changes  at  the  store  and  in  his 
own  fortunes. 

When  the  "Scotia"  arrived  back  in  Astoria  in 
December  that  year,  there  was  a  large  mail  awaiting 
Samuel  Boggs.  The  young  man  carried  it  from 
the  post-office  to  the  cabin  of  the  vessel  in  a  basket, 
and  Mary  MacDonald  assisted  him  in  sorting  it 
according  to  the  dates  the  letters  bore  and  the  per- 
sons writing.  The  lassie  also  undid  the  photos,  and 
as  she  stood  the  portrait  of  Rose  Wilson  against  the 
water  pitcher  and  noticed  the  blush  in  Sam's  cheeks, 
she  left  the  cabin,  biting  her  lips,  and  went  up  on 
deck  that  she  might  not  seem  further  ''to  intrude 
with  her  presence."  The  letters  were  read  on  the 
installment  plan,  and  the  ship's  usual  cargo  had 
nearly  all  been  unloaded  before  the  last  one  was 
finished.  They  each  and  all  begged  the  young  man 
to  return  hom'e  and  seemed  to  bear  the  confidential 
assurance  that  he  would  start  at  once,  just  as  soon 
as  the  reading  of  the  particular  entreaty  was  ended. 


250  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

There  were  letters  from  Mrs.  Stoner  and  Joe  in  the 
collection.  Mrs.  Stoner's  was  full  of  expressions 
of  love  and  the  same  motherly  advice  she  had 
always  given;  spoke  of  hardships  endured;  but 
through  it  all  was  the  same  tone  of  Christian  forti- 
tude and  resignation  that  had  characterized  her 
beautiful  life.  Joe  was  up  on  Puget  Sound  at  a 
place  called  Tacoma,  and  was  assisting  Hi  Foster, 
of  the  Joplin  party,  in  the  erection  of  a  saw  mill 
near  the  head  of  the  large  and  beautiful  inlet. 

Sam  took  an  afternoon  and  half  a  night  to  answer 
the  correspondence.  He  wrote  one  letter  for  those 
at  home,  declaring  it  would  have  to  answer  for  all. 
It  only  gave  an  account  of  his  life  with  the  Mac- 
Donalds  and  covering  the  trip  to  Alaska.  It  was 
full  of  kind  words  for  the  honest  Scotch  traders  and 
of  their  splendid  treatment  of  him;  told  how  they 
practiced  Christianity  in  their  dealings  with  the 
Eskimos,  the  fishermen,  the  seal  hunters,  and  with 
each  other;  how  they  observed  the  Sabbath  and  all 
religious  days,  and  of  how  he  and  "Bonnie  Mary" 
had  tried  to  keep  up  their  studies  on  ship  board. 
He  could  not  say  too  much  of  the  "Scotia's"  crew 
and  the  beautiful  country  their  trim  little  schooner 
had  visited.  He  told  how  the  inhabitants  of  the 
isolated  northern  towns  would  await  the  coming  of 
the  ship  and  always  welcome  it;  how  they  would 
bring  from  hiding  the  very  choicest  skins  and  furs 
they  had  kept  back  from  other  traders  and  saved  for 
the  honest  merchants,  who  gave  fair 'goods  and  just 
measure  of  value  in  return.  Only  a  portion  of  the 
letter  was  of  special  interest.  It  read : 


ON    BOARD   THE      SCOTIA  251 

"We  had  been  as  far  as  Chilkoot,  had  visited 
Juneau  upon  our  return,  had  beaten  our  way  across 
the  Lynn  Canal,  and  were  in  the  narrows  of  Cross 
Sound,  with  sails  set,  awaiting  a  breeze,  when  a 
steam  craft  bore  toward  us.  I  took  the  glass  from 
Captain  Robert,  who  said  the  boat  was  out  of  any 
usual  course  for  a  steamer  and  was  evidently  mak- 
ing straight  for  us  with  some  message,  but  flew  no 
signal.  As  it  came  near  I  easily  made  her  out  to  be 
the  'Cormorant/  the  piratical  sealer  I  wrote  you 
about,  and  so  told  the  captain.  It  was  a  dark  and 
hazy  day,  and  I  expressed  a  fear  to  the  captain  that 
the  steamer's  crew  meant  us  no  good ;  that  they  were 
wicked  enough  to  rob  our  ship,  murder  us  all,  and 
sink  the  'Scotia/  or  do  any  other  piece  of  wicked- 
ness known  to  the  high  seas.  The  captain  was 
agreed  with  me,  and,  with  the  little  wind  in  our 
favor,  he  put  the  ship  about  and  steered  for  shallow 
water.  Chicagoff  Island,  with  its  rugged  cliffs,  lay 
near  us,  and  we  scanned  our  chart  closely  for  shal- 
low water,  where  the  poacher  could  not  reach  us  and 
where  our  Winchesters  would  keep  off  any  of  her 
crew  who  might  venture  toward  us  in  small  boats. 
Our  little  schooner  crawled  along  slowly,  and  we 
cast  the  lead  frequently  and  took  in  sail  as  the  line 
only  showed  eight  feet  of  water,  barely  enough  to 
float  us.  Then  we  took  in  all  sail  and  cast  anchor. 
The  'Cormorant'  did  not  dare  follow  us,  but  it  hove 
to  and  cast  anchor,  as  though  awaiting  a  better 
opportunity  to  secure  our  stores.  We  worked  out 
of  the  Sound  that  night,  but  kept  close  in  toward 
Kruzof  and  Sitka,  keeping  a  close  watch  astern  and 


252  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

scanning  the  chart  for  places  of  safety.  Of  course 
no  one  slept.  We  saw  nothing  more  of  that  foul 
bird  of  the  seas,  but  while  making  the  return  visit 
to  Sitka  the  captain  of  a  coastwise  steamer  gave  us 
the  information  that  he  had  sighted  the  'Cormorant' 
hard  aground  in  Cross  Sound,  but  that  he  knew  of 
no  man  in  his  crew,  or  in  the  crew  of  any  honest 
trader,  who  would  wish  to  go  to  the  assistance  of 
the  miserable  seal  robbers. 

"The  second  day  out  of  Sitka  we  ran  into  a  severe 
storm,  the  worst,  the  MacDonalds  said,  they  had 
met  in  their  experience,  and  we  sailed  into  the  lee 
of  Coronation  Island  for  safety,  and  anchored  near 
the  shore.  I  am  greatly  interested  in  Coronation 
Island  now,  as  I  believe  it  holds  a  splendid  fortune 
for  me.  Donald  and  I  went  ashore  in  the  dory  the 
next  morning.  It  was  Sunday.  We  wandered  up 
over  the  rocks  some  and  I  dug  up  with  my  hands  a 
beautiful  little  specimen  of  a  fir  tree,  the  name  of 
which  none  of  us  can  give,  not  even  the  Captain. 
While  digging  I  had  occasion  to  remove  some  loose 
rock  that  had  doubtless  rolled  down  or  been  washed 
down  from  some  point  above.  It  was  dark  and 
heavy  and  I  guessed  it  bore  galena.  When  I  broke 
it  apart  I  was  sure  of  it.  It  was  as  fine  a  specimen 
as  I  ever  saw.  I  handed  it  to  'Mac'  and  asked  him 
what  he  thought  of  it.  He  knew  nothing  about  it, 
said  he  had  picked  up  several  similar  pieces  on  his 
way  up  and  noticed  their  weight,  but  thought  little 
of  it;  he  said  the  captain  had  mined  galena  some  in 
the  old  country,  and  he  might  know.  I  climbed 
higher  and  secured  even  finer  specimens,  all  I  could 


ON    BOARD   THE      SCOTIA  253 

carry,  the  finest  surely  I  had  ever  handled.  We 
hurried  back  to  the  ship,  and  Captain  Robert  was 
the  most  excited  man  you  ever  heard  about.  He 
said  if  it  wasn't  Sunday  he  would  go  with  us  to 
prospect  the  hills  that  very  hour.  Well,  would  you 
think  it?  The  Captain  would  not  let  one  of  us  go 
ashore  that  day.  He  conducted  more  religious 
services  than  ever,  and  two  or  three  times  I  caught 
him  praying  around  the  ship,  and  each  time  he  had 
a  chunk  of  my  galena  ore  in  his  hands.  Mary  gave 
me  one  of  her  flower  pots  and  I  planted  the  young 
fir  in  it  and  it  is  doing  finely,  only  I  must  soon  get 
it  into  a  larger  box.  It  is  a  handsome  thing  and 
I'm  going  to  try  and  save  it.  Monday  morning  the 
Captain  had  us  out  before  daylight,  and  we  went 
over  several  square  rods  of  Coronation  Island  be- 
fore breakfast.  Donald  simply  went  along  for  com- 
pany. He  was  something  of  a  nuisance,  as  he  would 
pick  up  bits  of  rock  every  five  minutes  and  bring 
them  to  us  to  look  at.  The  large  rocks  looked  to 
me  like  so  many  great  piles  of  galena  ore  against  the 
sky  that  Monday  morning.  I  followed  up  a  ravine, 
where  there  were  many  detached  portions  of  rock 
bearing  the  mineral,  and  when  I  reached  the  moun- 
tain itself  I  found  a  finer  outcropping  than  the 
Ozark  Hills  of  Missouri  ever  contained.  When 
the  Captain  came  up  and  saw  it,  he  hugged  me  for 
joy.  We  three  men,  with  our  hands  joined,  couldn't 
reach  across  that  vein.  We  were  an  hour  late  for 
breakfast,  but  were  too  happy  to  eat,  anyway,  and 
Mary  forgave  us.  We  remained  there  for  ten  days, 
and  with  the  aid  of  gunny  sacks  placed  at  least  a 


254  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

ton  of  ore  each  day  aboard  the  'Scotia.'  We  found 
deep  water  where  we  could  anchor  near  the  rocks 
and  we  used  everything  we  could  think  of  for  a 
bridge.  We  expect  to  sail  for  the  'Frisco  smelters 
tomorrow,  that  we  may  test  the  ore.  Four  prom- 
ising claims  are  staked  out  and  all  have  agreed  to 
share  and  share  alike  in  any  profits.  The  Mac- 
Donalds  say  I  shall  stand  on  an  equal  footing  with 
them  in  recognition  of  my  discovery.  I  will  write 
of  results  after  the  smelter  tests  are  made.  I  have 
named  the  biggest  vein,  the  one  I  discovered  far  up 
the  ravine,  the  'Rose  Wilson.'  That  name  ought 
to  bring  good  luck,  don't  you  think  so?" 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A   SYMPATHETIC    CAPTAIN 

If  you  think,  as  men  are  apt  to  think,  your  own  trade,  or 
profession,  or  avocation,  is  one  you  should  advise  your  boys 
not  to  follow,  it  will  be  well  to  look  through  the  books  for 
names  of  illustr'ous  men  who've  followed  the  very  same  thing. 
— Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

Sam  wrote  the  promised  letter  from  'Frisco,  and 
it  said  the  smelter  returns  more  than  met  their  ex- 
pectations and  that  they  were  fitting  out  to  return 
,to  the  island,  to  make  further  explorations  and  to 
develop  the  "Rose  Wilson"  property.  They  had 
purchased  wire  cable  and  an  upright  engine,  and 
proposed  to  set  up  an  automatic  conveyor,  to  carry 
the  ore  from  the  mine  to  the  water's  edge ;  had  writ- 
ten Joe  and  sent  specifications  of  mine  and  dock  tim- 
bers they  desired  and  of  the  lumber  needed  for  the 
camp;  had  given  the  date  of  their  probable  depart- 
ure from  San  Francisco  Bay,  and  had  calculated  the 
time  it  would  take  the  schooner  to  reach  the  Sound 
with  a  fair  wind.  They  had  invited  Stoner  to  join 
their  company,  realizing  the  advantage  a  practical 
machinist  and  mechanic  would  be  to  them.  In  the 
letter  was  a  New  York  draft  for  two  hundred  dol- 
lars, which,  the  writer  said,  was  to  be  used  in  the 
education  of  Roger  Williams.  The  greater  portion 


256  A   STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

of  the  letter  was  addressed  personally  to  Roger  and 
was  as  follows : 

"Ever  since  meeting  the  MacDonalds,  my  dear 
brother,  I  have  longed  for  an  education.  Captain 
'Mac'  is  a  graduate  of  Edinburgh  University,  and 
is  the  most  polished  gentleman  and  the  best  posted 
man  on  all  subjects  I  ever  met.  He  is  a  great  reader 
and  keeps  a  fine  assortment  of  books  on  ship  board. 
I  can  hardly  tell  whether  he  loves  philosophy,  or 
astronomy,  or  the  sciences  best.  He  has  a  good 
glass  aboard,  and  many  a  night  when  we  were  in 
Alaskan  waters,  I  have  known  of  his  being  up  on 
deck  in  perfect  revery  as  he  studied  the  splendid 
skies  of  that  region.  He  went  to  sea  for  his  health, 
and  naturally  went  with  his  brother,  Donald,  who  is 
a  sailor.  The  Captain  is  an  enthusiast  in  anything 
he  undertakes,  and  he  knows  more  about  handling 
a  ship  now  than  Donald  does,  and  that  accounts  for 
his  being  called  'Captain.'  He  declares  that  one 
view  of  the  heavens — some  particular  view — has 
more  than  repaid  him  for  coming  to  this  shore.  He 
is  strong  and  well  now,  but  says  he  has  no  intention 
of  going  back  to  Scotland  so  long  as  Donald  can 
make  a  living  with  the  schooner.  When  I  told  him 
my  father  is  a  minister,  and  that  you  are  going  to  be 
one,  he  said  his  father  was,  too — a  Presbyterian  and 
a  collegian.  He  has  almost  talked  me  into  it,  and 
every  time  I  say  my  education  is  too  poor,  he  asks  if 
'Bonnie  Mary'  is  doing  nothing  for  me  and  if  I  am 
following  the  course  of  study  he  has  mapped  out. 
My,  if  I  knew  one-quarter  as  much  as  he  does,  I 
would  surely  be  a  preacher,  but  I  could  never  learn. 


A    SYMPATHETIC    CAPTAIN  257 

He  has  had  wonderful  sympathy  for  me  ever  since 
I  told  him  about  it,  and  seems  to  love  to  keep  refer- 
ing  to  it.  I  guess  we  all  catch  about  the  same  view 
of  it.  He  has  told  me,  as  many  as  three  times  over, 
of  the  great  men  who  have  been  preachers  or 
preachers'  sons,  and  I  have  tried  hard  to  remember, 
to  write  you.  He  insists  we  are  in  a  class  by  our- 
selves and  deserve  much  better  estimates  than  we 
generally  receive;  says  we  have  been  abused  for 
generations ;  that  most  people  expect  us  to  be  angels, 
absolutely  perfect — something  high  above  other 
boys — and  the  very  next  moment  they  make  us  out 
to  be  just  like  other  boys,  only  worse.  They  make 
us  angels  only  that  they  can  slowly  pull  the  quills 
from  our  wings  and  keep  us  in  wretched  torment  as 
long  as  possible,  and  when  they  are  through  with  us, 
we  look  worse  than  plucked  turkey  buzzards.  In 
small  towns,  he  says,  the  populace  keeps  us  con- 
stantly under  suspicion,  and  he's  been  made  to  feel 
like  a  criminal  when  he  wasn't  one,  many  a  time. 
I  like  the  captain  better  for  it.  He  tells  me  we  have 
no  occasion  for  hanging  our  heads,  and  that  it's  a 
distinct  honor  to  be  ministers'  sons,  and,  if  I  get 
anything  out  of  the  mine,  I'm  going  to  have  great 
pleasure  in  helping  to  educate  one  minister's  son  I 
know  of,  for  the  ministry.  Can  you  think  whom 
I  refer  to?  I  feel  differently  upon  this  subject  than 
I  did  before  meeting  the  Captain. 

"Emerson's  ancestors  were  ministers  back  five 
families,  says  the  Captain.  James  Russell  Lowell 
was  brought  up  in  a  minister's  home.  I  have  been 
reading  some  of  his  books  and  he  was  a  fine  fellow. 


258  A    STREAK   OF   YELLOW 

Holmes,  the  poet,  began  writing  in  his  father's  par- 
sonage. I  hope  his  father's  study  was  more  attrac- 
tive to  him  than  my  father's  was  to  me;  but  that's 
a  tender  subject,  and  I  always  feel  of  the  place  where 
I  sit  down  when  I  think  of  it.  Arabella  writes  me 
you  don't  have  to  do  it.  I  guess  that's  why  you 
have  decided  to  preach.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  is  a 
preacher's  son  and  I  have  learned  to  like  him  mighty 
well.  The  Captain  names  Addison,  Goldsmith. 
Coleridge,  Cowper,  Young,  Tennyson,  and  a  lot 
more,  as  being  sons  of  ministers.  He  went  through 
the  list  of  philosophers,  and  tells  me  Dugald,  Stew- 
art, Reid,  Abercrombie,  and  Bentham  are  in  our 
class.  The  other  night  he  was  reading  some  of 
Macaulay's  Essays  to  us,  and  when  he  finished  he 
said,  'There's  a  pretty  smart  preacher's  boy  for 
you,'  and  then  he  added,  'Yes,  and  there's  Swift  and 
Thackeray  and  Kingsley  and  Matthew  Arnold,'  and 
he  said  many  more  I  cannot  now  recall.  He  has 
named  to  me  a  lot  of  men  now  living  who  are  min- 
ister's sons  and  who  are  famous  in  one  line  or 
another.  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  be  proud 
over  it?  Are  you  not  glad  you  are  called  into  the 
service  of  the  Great  King?  It's  too  late  for  me  to 
think  of  it,  but  do  you  think  you  can  estimate  what 
my  pleasure  will  be  in  trying  to  help  educate  you 
for  it  ?  I  ask  God  every  day  to  grant  me  this  bless- 
ing. I  thank  Him  that  our  father  is  a  minister,  and 
since  I  have  learned  to  love  water  so  much  I  rejoice 
that  he  is  a  Baptist.  I'd  rather  he'd  be  that  than 
anything  else,  unless  it's  a  Presbyterian.  I  am  a 
member  of  the  'Scotia'  Presbyterian  Church  now, 


A    SYMPATHETIC    CAPTAIN  259 

and  Mary  MacDonald  and  I  constitute  the  choir,  the 
Captain  preaches,  and  Donald  and  the  cat  make  up 
the  lay  membership." 

The  letter  contained  the  disappointing  informa- 
tion that  the  writer  expected  to  spend  the  remainder 
of  his  life  upon  the  Pacific  coast,  where  the  oppor- 
tunities for  a  young  man  seemed  greater,  and  es- 
pecially so  to  him,  if  the  mine  should  bring  the  re- 
turns it  promised.  It  gave  no  information  what- 
ever as  to  when  he  expected  to  return  home,  in  fact 
said  nothing  upon  the  subject. 

For  the  next  two  years  Sam  Boggs  was  a  miner 
on  Coronation  Island  and  his  bunk-mate  was  Joe 
Stoner.  The  development  work  had  progressed  far 
enough  during  this  period  to  prove  there  were  for- 
tunes stored  in  the  rugged  hills.  They  had  already 
considerable  wealth  in  the  shape  of  rich  ore  piled 
upon  the  dock  that  Joe  had  constructed.  There  was 
no  yellow  metal  in  the  mass  and  Sam  was  delighted 
over  the  fact.  The  partners  needed  money,  how- 
ever, to  place  the  ore  upon  the  market ;  needed  ves- 
sels to  bear  it  to  the  smelter,  and  saw  how  necessary 
capital  was  to  their  enterprise.  The  "Scotia"  was 
far  too  small,  and  the  smelter  was  too  far  distant 
for  the  making  of  money  with  conditions  and  appli- 
ances as  they  were.  Thus  the  road  to  wealth  seemed 
long  and  uncertain,  unless  new  capital  could  be 
drawn  into  the  enterprise.  Joe  had  heard  that  capi- 
talists interested  in  mines  were  going  to  erect  a 
smelter  upon  Puget  Sound,  probably  at  Seattle,  and 
he  imparted  this  information  to  his  companions. 
He  and  Sam  were  selected  to  go  with  the  Captain  to 


260  A    STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

investigate,  and  after  the  "Scotia"  was  loaded  with 
all  the  ore  she  could  carry,  the  three  started  for 
'Frisco  by  way  of  the  Sound.  They  missed  "Bonnie 
Mary's"  good  cooking  upon  the  journey ;  but  where 
anticipations  are  high,  appetites  are  usually  keen, 
and  the  men  drew  cuts  at  each  meal  to  see  who 
should  prepare  the  next,  and  they  managed  to  stick 
the  Captain  at  nearly  every  draw,  and  so  lived  pretty 
much  on  the  "top  shelf"  all  the  time. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

PLANTING   A    REMINDER 

When  you  know  you  can't  leave  a  great  name  behind  you, 
and  you're  too  modest  to  erect  your  own  maus'leum,  why  not 
plant  a  tree  ?  It  will  afford  more  comfort  to  future  gen' rations 
than  your  tomb  possibly  could,  and  it  won't  expose  your  van- 
ity half  as  much. — Sam  Boggs,  Jr. 

It  had  been  an  open  winter  in  western  New  York 
and  there  were  many  signs  of  an  early  spring. 
March  came  in  like  a  lamb,  and  although  large 
flakes  of  snow  were  falling  that  melted  the  moment 
they  came  in  contact  with  earth,  there  was  balm  in 
the  atmosphere,  warmth  in  the  sun  that  was  fre- 
quently playing  peek-a-boo  from  behind  leaden 
clouds,  and  Jack  Frost  was  loosing  his  icy  grip  upon 
the  ground. 

Roger  Williams  came  home  from  school  and 
stomped  in  through  the  front  door,  and  hurried 
through  the  dining-room  without  shaking  the  damp 
snow  from  his  coat  or  removing  his  hat  or  mittens. 
The  other  members  of  the  family  were  at  table,  and 
when  the  big  boy  re-entered  the  room  and  stormed 
through  it  and  out  again,  carrying  a  long-handled 
spade,  Mrs.  Boggs  became  curious  and  followed  him 
as  far  as  the  door,  opened  it  a  bit,  and  peeked  out. 
The  head  of  the  family  shrugged  his  shoulders,  blew 
on  his  thumbs,  and  suggested  that  considerable  cold 


262  A   STREAK    OF   YELLOW 

air  was  gaining  an  entrance,  but  the  inquisitive 
woman  did  not  take  the  hint  until  she  saw  her  son 
turn  and  retrace  his  steps. 

"If  I  were  you  I  would  pass  around  the  house 
with  an  implement  of  that  kind,"  said  the  Doctor  to 
Roger,  as  he  came  in.  "It  will  save  your  mother's 
curiosity  and  some  stove-wood  besides." 

"Who  is  the  man  and  what  is  he  doing  in  our 
yard?"  asked  the  mother  as  she  resumed  her  place 
at  table. 

"I  don't  know  who  he  is,"  replied  Roger.  "I 
never  saw  him  before,  but  he  has  on  the  finest  seal- 
skin coat  and  cap  I  ever  saw." 

"What  did  he  say  to  you?"  was  the  mother's  next 
question. 

"He  asked  me  if  I  could  bring  him  a  spade." 

"What's  he  digging  up?"  asked  the  Doctor. 

"He  isn't  digging  anything  up,  he's  planting 
something — some  kind  of  an  evergreen  tree.  I 
asked  him  why  he  did  it,  and  he  told  me  he  was 
born  in  this  house,  and  now  that  he's  a  man  he 
thought  he'd  like  to  leave  a  tree  as  a  living  reminder 
of  the  fact.  He  asked  if  I  thought  my  mother  would 
mind  showing  him  the  room  where  he  was  born." 

"Anything  else?"  asked  the  mother. 

"He  said  he  hoped  there'd  be  no  objection  to  his 
planting  the  tree,  and  I  told  him  it  was  church  prop- 
erty, and  if  his  father  was  once  pastor  of  our  church 
I  could  see  no  objection." 

"What  did  he  say  to  that?"  asked  Jud,  who  was 
just  becoming  interested. 


PLANTING   A   REMINDER  263 

"He  only  sighed,  and  said  his  father  used  to  be 
our  pastor." 

"I  didn't  see  him  look  toward  the  house  once," 
observed  Mrs.  Boggs,  "but  he  kept  his  back  this  way 
all  the  time.  What  does  he  look  like?" 

"He  looked  to  me  like  the  picture  of  John  the 
Baptist  that  hangs  in  the  study,"  said  Roger.  "He 
has  dark  whiskers  and  long,  curly  hair,  and  hand- 
some big  brown  eyes.  Two  or  three  times  he  said 
he  hoped  the  tree  would  live,  hoped  I  would  tend  it, 
because  he'd  brought  it  a  long  way." 

"Praise  God !  I  knew  it.  It's  our  Samuel !" 
cried  the  mother  as  she  jumped  from  her  chair  and 
rushed  out  the  door. 

Chairs  tipped  over  and  napkins  fell  as  the  others 
followed  her. 

Mrs.  Boggs  did  not  stop  for  the  damp  snow  or 
wet  ground,  nor  did  she  close  the  door  behind  her. 
The  tree-planter  turned  as  she  called  his  name,  and 
the  two  rushed  wildly  together,  and  Mrs.  Boggs 
was  nearly  smothered  in  that  magnificent  seal-skin, 
as  though  in  the  embrace  of  an  Alaskan  bear. 
Sam's  cap  dropped  to  the  ground  as  he  showered 
kisses  upon  his  mother's  cheeks  and  forehead. 
Then,  with  arms  around  each  other,  they  walked 
into  the  parsonage,  where  the  others  were  standing, 
dumbfounded,  with  tears  streaming  from  their  eyes. 

The  home-coming  of  a  prodigal  is  a  thing  sacred 
to  the  immediate  family,  and  because  it  is  a  difficult 
thing  to  portray  the  joy  of  such  an  occasion,  it  is 
best  to  draw  the  curtain  of  sanctity  about  the  scene 
and  leave  it  unprofaned. 


264  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

After  dinner,  Sam  Boggs  told  of  his  more  recent 
experiences,  and  all  during  the  following  week  he 
was  obliged  to  relate  them  over  and  over  again.  He 
told  them  to  Mrs.  Fairbanks  as  he  held  and  admired 
her  bouncing  baby  boy ;  to  Mr.  Hooker  and  the  Wil- 
sons, in  the  residence  of  the  last-named,  where  a 
beautiful  young  woman  kept  her  eyes  constantly 
riveted  upon  him  as  he  proceeded  with  the  narra- 
tive; to  groups  of  townspeople  as  they  hovered 
about  the  big  stove  in  the  general  store.  Sam  dis- 
liked to  tell  of  the  unpleasant  things  and  avoided 
them  as  much  as  possible,  and  was  modest  in  speak- 
ing of  himself.  He  loved  to  tell  of  the  Stoners  and 
the  MacDonalds,  and  to  describe  the  beauties  of 
southeastern  Alaska. 

A  new  company  had  been  formed  to  operate  the 
mines  on  Coronation  Island,  and  it  had  ample  means 
in  its  treasury.  The  four  original  owners — Joe  had 
been  let  in  on  even  terms — sold  a  one-half  interest 
in  the  properties  for  $150,000,  with  the  understand- 
ing that  $100,000  of  the  money  should  be  used  in 
the  development  of  the  mines.  The  remaining 
$50,000  was  divided  evenly  among  the  original 
owners,  and  Sam  had  his  share  with  him  in  the 
shape  of  New  York  drafts  the  morning  he  planted 
the  Coronation  fir  in  the  parsonage  yard. 

The  young  man  left  instructions  at  the  Wilson 
bank  to  have  the  money  standing  to  his  credit  there 
placed  to  the  credit  of  his  brother  Roger,  to  be  used 
in  his  education.  He  added  one  thousand  dollars 
to  it  for  the  same  purpose,  and  during  his  stay  did 
many  things  to  insure  the  comfort  of  his  parents, 


PLANTING   A   REMINDER  265 

whose  locks  were  now  silvery  white.  On  May  first 
he  started  upon  his  return  for  Seattle,  where  a 
smelter  was  in  process  of  erection  that  his  company 
expected  to  use  in  the  reduction  of  its  ores,  and 
where  he  was  to  have  offices  as  secretary  and 
treasurer  of  the  new  corporation. 

The  "Rose  Wilson"  mine  yielded  handsomely  for 
its  owners.  The  MacDonalds,  Joe  Stoner,  and  Sam 
Boggs  fast  became  leading  and  influential  men  in 
the  thriving  city  of  Seattle.  Joe  had  won  a  place  in 
"Bonnie  Mary's"  heart  after  a  long  and  persistent 
chase,  and  after  their  wedding  Mrs.  Stoner  came 
West  to  live  with  them,  and  never  for  a  moment 
had  fears  that  she  was  in  the  way,  or  was  not  wel- 
come to  an  equal  share  of  every  blessing  they  en- 
joyed. She  never  ceased  calling  Joe  and  Sam  her 
boys,  and  they  never  ceased  their  kindly  attentions 
or  gentle  ministrations  to  her.  Joe  was  interested 
with  the  MacDonalds  in  their  extensive  lumbering 
operations,  and  was  also  a  partner  of  Hi  Foster  in 
the  Tacoma  mill.  Hi  took  naturally  to  politics,  and 
at  an  early  day  his  associates  and  friends  upon  the 
Sound  took  a  keen  interest  in  his  ambitions  and  de- 
clared that  sometime  they  would  make  him  gov- 
ernor or  would  land  him  in  the  United  States  Senate 

Five  years  after  the  planting  of  the  fir  there  was 
a  brilliant  wedding  in  Batesville — the  most  brilliant 
in  the  history  of  the  model  young  city.  The  cere- 
mony was  performed  in  the  Baptist  Church  by  the 
Rev.  Samuel  E.  Boggs,.  D.  D.,  assisted  by  the  Rev. 
Roger  Williams  Boggs.  Benjamin  F.  H.  Hopkins 
was  best  man  and  A.  Judson  Boggs  was  master  of 


266  A    STREAK    OF    YELLOW 

ceremonies.  Henry  Wilson  gave  the  bride  away 
and  Mrs.  Arabella  Fairbanks,  who  insisted  it  was 
her  right,  had  entire  charge  of  the  floral  decorations 
in  the  church  and  in  the  residence  of  the  Wilson's, 
where  the  reception  was  held  and  where  the  splendid 
array  of  presents  was  greatly  admired.  She  was 
discreet  enough  to  omit  any  shade  of  yellow  from 
the  decoration  scheme.  As  Arabella  and  Sam 
draped  back  the  bride's  veil  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
ceremony,  Jud  was  overheard  to  say,  as  he  looked 
at  a  pretty  face  upon  the  dial  of  his  watch,  "condum- 
itall,  I  wish  I  had  been  younger  and  had  reached 
the  baptistry  first!" 


